Wishful Thinking
by Venus Smurf
Summary: Serena and Darien hate each other--don't they?
1. First Encounters

A.N.: Once again, I've rewritten one of my stories. I originally posted this over a year ago, but several friends have made me aware of crucial events that I'd forgotten to include. Always obedient to their wishes, I've redone the entire thing, adding those events they believed most relevant.  
  
This entire thing is rather stream-of-conscious, but I won't apologize for it. This is simply the nature of the piece, and I could no more alter the writing style than I could change the color of the sky. This story is noticeably different than anything else I've ever written, and I hope I won't be judged by my lack of finesse. I ramble, I'm imprecise-and I wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
Please review. I'd honestly like to hear what people think of this. It's completely atypical of me, and I'd like to know how well-or poorly-I've done.  
  
"WISHFUL THINKING"  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
Throughout my entire life, I don't think that I'll ever find someone that I could hate as much as I hated Darien Shields. I hated him so much that I would often lie in bed at night, picturing the many ways I would cheerfully kill him the first chance I had. Most of his imaginary deaths were painful and very bloody. Nothing was too gory for Darien. He deserved worse than anything my imagination could cook up.  
  
For as long as I can remember, Darien had been an integral part of my life. Hardly a day passed that I didn't spend at least an hour or two with him. No matter what I did, I couldn't escape the jerk. The only thing that saved my sanity was the fact that he didn't live anywhere near me-I don't think I could have handled having him sneak up on me while I was walking the dog or taking the trash out at night. He was more than capable of pulling nasty tricks of this sort, and after living in California for so long, I think this would have stopped my heart.  
  
Looking back, it's hard to imagine that I only met him in high school. I feel as if I've always known-and hated-him. He was one of the few constants in my life, as unremitting as my daily chores and as unpleasant as the twice-annual trips to the dentist. He was-and always will be-a part of me. Though my hatred for him was stronger than most of the loves in my small world, I still can't comprehend a life without him. He was many things, but for me, he simply *was*.  
  
Back then, I lived in a medium-sized town in the mid-west. My town was not one of those tiny places where most of the people run around in cowboy hats and big boots, though I have lived in places like that, as well. My city was, however, spread out over vast distances. Most people lived on isolated streets, which were surrounded by nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. Everybody went to the same school, the same bank, and the same grocery store. There were enough people in the city to warrant more than one of each, but there isn't a storeowner in the world who would willingly move to one of the coldest places in the country.  
  
In fact, there was only one thing that I hated more than Darien, and that was the weather in Ohio. I know that winter is technically only supposed to last for six months, but here it went on for an endless seven or eight. Most years, the snow was already falling heavily by the time my birthday rolled around in September, and it didn't let up until March or April. Then, of course, the rains began before the ice had even melted completely.  
  
In the mid-west, rain is an oddity. The question is never, 'Will it rain?', but 'Will it flood?' The skies are dark with black clouds for weeks at a time. When it actually does rain, it's like the God opens the heavens themselves to allow entire waterfalls to cascade over the earth. The rain can be so heavy that it actually hurts.  
  
I used to love thunderstorms, before I moved to Ohio with my family during my freshman year of high school. I'd lived in Utah for a while, where the lightning is as spectacular as a firework show on the fourth of July. When I moved to Ohio, though, I had my first contact with tornadoes.  
  
Tornadoes are probably the scariest things on the planet. I've lived through the Los Angeles riots, muggings, people taking pot shots at me with guns; terrorist attacks in Africa, hurricanes, and forest fires. I've traveled all over the world, faced every kind of threat, but nothing comes close to that swirling maelstrom of wind. The thought of a tornado strike still makes me shake. After I'd lived through a few of them, I began to be afraid of even the simplest rainstorms, thus ruining forever my enjoyment of gloomy weather.  
  
This fear of mine only increased as the seasons passed. During the summers, I spent almost every night in a sleeping bag on the basement floor, waiting for the tornado warning to let up. I never actually slept on those nights, of course. I was simply too terrified. Instead, I would lie awake, trying to control the terrible images running through my mind. Those images, naturally, involved plenty of destruction and suffering.  
  
I tried to control my imagination, I really did. I've lived through so many disasters that one would think I'd adapt to this as easily as I adapted to everything else I've ever endured. I am not, however, prepared to die in a tornado. There's just something awful about knowing I might be killed without warning, possibly even while sleeping contently in my bed. Somehow, though, it's even worse knowing that this unexpected death might come from something as seemingly harmless as wind.  
  
In all honesty, I don't think I would have been quite so terrified had I not had friends and family injured by these horrible things. My cousin's home was once destroyed by a tornado, and she nearly lost an arm when a piece of collapsing roof fell on her in the resulting destruction. I've had neighbors who've had the tops ripped off their homes, and my car was once totaled when a lamppost fell on it during a storm. It didn't help that I'd only exited the vehicle about five minutes previously.  
  
Why, you ask, am I babbling about weather? Well, I wanted to ensure that my readers understand why I got caught so many times in foul situations. The weather plays as much a part of my story as anything else. It affected my life as surely as my own decisions did. The first of these times came shortly after I moved to Ohio.  
  
The night before I was to start at my new school, a tornado struck only a few houses down from mine. I was alone on the top floor of our three-story home, and I'd never heard thunder so loud. We didn't have our televisions hooked up at that point, so we didn't know that a tornado warning had been issued only hours previously. Even if we had, we probably would have dismissed it as unimportant, ignorant valley people that we were. Nevertheless, I didn't need a weather broadcast to tell me just how dangerous the storm was. To my overactive imagination, the thunder could just as easily been created by giants pounding on metal drums. It was so loud that it actually gave me a migraine.  
  
I didn't get any sleep that night. I was already nervous about school starting, but the lack of sleep made me crabbier than I ever would have been. On top of all that, the storm had taken out our electricity, and I couldn't even use a curling iron. Our fridge had also gone out during the night, and everything in the house smelled like rancid milk. Not for the first time, I cursed the day my dad had taken the job that landed us in this godforsaken state.  
  
My dad had a job that required us to move around the country. He wasn't in the military or anything, but I still moved to a different state every two or three years, at least. It was hard for me, but I wouldn't change it now for anything. It made me what I am today.  
  
I was always terribly shy as a child, too wrapped up in my books for social contact. By the time I was nine, I'd read everything I could get my hands on, from Shakespeare and Julian to Dickens and Pico. Needless to say, I wasn't a normal child. When elementary school teachers asked me to write a book report, I'd write a ten-page thesis on novels by Jane Austin and Leo Tolstoy. I read encyclopedias for fun. Rather than interact with other children my age, I would spend my after-school hours in advanced placement programs where small children were required to learn foreign languages like French and German.  
  
I'm actually not proud of this. I was terribly unsocial-quiet, withdrawn. I hardly spoke more than ten words a day, even to my family, and I was far too reticent for my own well-being. Even my closest friends-the few I'd actually made between moves-could not get me to open up. Looking back, I realize that no matter how much knowledge I gained during this period, my lack of social skills was positively dangerous. Education is important, but not at the cost of a stable emotional life. Had I remained as I was, I'd probably be needing serious emotional therapy right about now.  
  
As I said, I was terribly withdrawn. This introversion of mine was probably an effect of spending so much time on airplanes or in cars. I spent far too many hours immobilized in one place, with nothing to do but read. Ten years ago, of course, handheld Nintendo systems were too expensive for careless children, even if I had wanted one, and I had no other outlet or entertainment than my books.  
  
By the time I was fifteen, I'd gone to no less than thirty-three different schools. However, after I'd reached the twenty-fifth school, I'd gotten over my natural shyness. I don't actually know when I changed, but I'm certainly glad I did! This sudden openness was probably yet another side effect of being shunted from place to place. It's hard to remain as I was when I was forced to make a new set of friends every few years. Becoming outgoing was a necessary for my own survival, I suppose.  
  
In retrospect, I realize that this might have turned out differently. I might have become even worse than I'd been, but, thankfully, this did not happen. I opened up, and I've always been grateful for this.  
  
My new openness, of course, was far healthier than my previous tendencies. I could now strike up conversations with complete strangers. I was chummy with almost everybody I knew, but I didn't have many close friends, for all that. I was still unable to let someone into my innermost thoughts and feelings.  
  
When I moved to Ohio, I met the four people who would totally change my outlook on friendship. The first was my friend, Lita. She was a stunning brunette with emerald green eyes-and a heart the size of Texas. I don't think she's ever said a single mean thing in her life. The truly astonishing part was that not only did she not say mean things, but she honestly didn't believe that anyone had a single negative quality. She was a friend to everyone. She even befriended the mentally unstable kids, the ones that nobody else would go near for fear of being knifed or shot just for saying the wrong thing.  
  
I met both Lita and Darien the same morning, on the very first day of school. I'd gotten lost trying to find my first class, of course, so I was already late. When I entered, every eye was riveted on me. Some people were snickering, since my hair always goes wild unless I curl it, and today was even worse than usual. I know that I was pale from lack of sleep, and my eyes tend to cross when I'm angry. Still, some kids looked interested, especially one cute boy with black hair. One very cute boy, I must say- dark hair, tanned face, incredibly blue eyes. He was absolutely gorgeous, and I would have realized this immediately had I not been so cross.  
  
The class was already crowded, as they always are on the first day. I looked in vain for a free chair, but the room was arranged in such a way that I couldn't see any from my vantage point. The room did not have any actual desks, using instead marble counters placed in a rectangle around the center of the room. Each and every one of the marble stools arranged around the counters were occupied.  
  
As I hesitated in the doorway, the teacher pointed in annoyance to a seat on the far corner of the room. I nodded and plonked myself down into it, not bothering to scan the faces of my fellow students as I set my bag on the floor at my feet. As I pulled out a notepad and a pencil, I finally noticed that I was sitting right next to the cute boy. He was staring at me, a slight grin quirking his lips. He nodded to me, but I didn't answer. I was too intent on the words coming from the teacher, and I wasn't in the mood to smile or introduce myself. He must have been offended by my lack of response to him-once again, I had been rather rude-but I didn't care. Darien meant nothing to me, then, and I was still grumpy from that morning's debacle.  
  
Darien was certainly offended. He had always been rather proud of his power over the women in his acquaintance, and he'd never before been rejected so quickly. He'd thought he could charm any girl simply by smiling at her, and they would obediently fall into his waiting, careless arms. I, however, was different. For one thing, I wasn't interested in dating just then, and his insolent stare made me angry. I'd taken an instant-and possibly unjust-dislike to him, and he only confirmed my opinion in the years that followed.  
  
Within a few seconds, our extended feud began. I'd ignored his less than charming overture, and he took one look at me and made some snide comment about my hair. I don't even remember what he said, but I remember being furious. I was beyond civility at that point, anyway, so I automatically kicked him in the shins. I couldn't have helped myself if my life had depended on it, and he certainly deserved whatever I dished out.  
  
Still, my foot must have connected with considerable force. He howled in pain, falling from his stool and earning us both a reprimand from the teacher. I acted innocent, putting on my most adorable face, but I doubt that Mrs. Teshier was fooled. She frowned, though she directed the class back to her lecture without comment.  
  
I cast a smug look at my companion before turning back to the teacher. Darien just glared at me, and he didn't stop glaring for nearly three years. But who knows? Maybe my relationship with Darien wouldn't have begun at all if I hadn't been crabby enough to kick him, or my hair hadn't been awful enough to grab his attention in the first place. Fate is funny like that, sometimes.  
  
As the teacher finally finished her first day lectures, she told us all to gather some supplies from a table in the back of the room. Wanting to get away from the black-haired boy, I immediately headed for the table. I had a choice of paints or chalk. Naturally, I chose chalk. I've always been awful with paint, but I have won some awards for still-life chalk drawings. I figured that I'd better create something decent if I didn't want to get on my teacher's bad side forever.  
  
As I started back towards my desk, chalks in hand, I bumped into a girl with brown hair and a friendly smile. I apologized, though it had been entirely her fault, and started to walk away. She stopped me, moving to block my way and sticking out her hand. I stared at it for a moment, but she continued to offer it to me. After I gave in and finally shook it, she broke into a wide grin and started talking at a mile a minute.  
  
We've been friends ever since. Lita was my lifeline, my sanity. She was the person that helped me become truly normal. Whenever I got too far into my books, it was she who dragged me to the movies. We have a lot in common. She's the second to last child in a family of nine, and I'm the second child in a family of eight. She knows what it's like not to have privacy or a single hour spent in quiet or solitude. She was the one who ultimately introduced me to my other three best friends, Levi and the twins, as well.  
  
I didn't meet Levi at school. I was taking a refresher course in German at that point, and I'd been paired with a girl named Heidi. My German was admittedly weak, since I hadn't spoken more than a few phrases in several years. My German grammar was also atrocious, but Heidi was very patient with me, helping me relearn what I'd long since forgotten. We worked well together, quickly becoming friends. I sometimes went to her home to work on our language projects, and I often stayed overnight with her family when we worked too late into the night. I enjoyed her family immensely, spending many hours with them as the weeks passed. Her parents were wonderful people, caring and open and utterly oblivious to anything their precious children did. Perhaps this lack of awareness came from the fact that they only had two children, both of whom were practically adults. It's lucky for them, perhaps, that neither Heidi nor her younger brother, Levi, could even have imagined doing anything even remotely destructive or harmful.  
  
The first time I met Levi, I thought that he was the biggest clown on the planet. He made corny jokes at the worst of times, and he never did understand the concept of tact. He wasn't serious for a single minute of his life, and he drove me nuts at first. I thought he was rude, immature, and quite possibly stupid.  
  
Eventually, though, I realized that he wasn't an idiot, after all. He was incredibly intelligent, and he wasn't even that immature, really. He simply had such a strong sense of self that he didn't feel the need to impress anybody, and so he didn't try. He acted as he wished to, seeking to please only himself. He never tried to be anything he wasn't, and I slowly learned to value him for this honesty. He was utterly himself, and I will be forever grateful for his friendship.  
  
Levi was a year younger than I, and he didn't yet go to the high school. This didn't stop us from becoming almost instant friends, though. Along with Heidi and Lita, we often hung out together after school. He's become like a brother to me, over the years; we were nearly inseparable, and our relationship was one of mutual benefit. I would help him with his academic projects and organize his endless campaigns for school appointments, and he infected me with a quick-albeit twisted and corny-sense of humor. I introduced him to his first girlfriend, a sweet girl that lived a few blocks from I. He, in turn, introduced me to the twins, his next-door neighbors.  
  
About two months after I'd started school, I'd been spending an afternoon with Levi and Heidi. After a short time, Heidi had abandoned us in favor of track practice, and I was left alone with her brother, whom I had, of course, learned to appreciate by this time.  
  
We hadn't had anything in particular planned for the afternoon, so we ended up spending about two hours just talking. We were sprawled across the center of his bedroom floor, facing opposite directions with our heads nearly touching as we sought patterns in the plaster of his ceiling. Every few moments, Levi or I would point out whatever shape we'd imagined into the ceiling, trying to convince the other that there really was a shape in those particular patches. It was a pointless task, of course, but I reveled in it. I'd just had an incredibly difficult day at school, and I wasn't in the mood to study or even read. I'd gone to Levi's, hoping for a distraction. Somehow, Levi always knew when I needed to do something utterly meaningless, and this was one of those days.  
  
Just as we were becoming bored, I heard a loud thump against the bedroom window. To my complete surprise, two girls climbed through the window and stepped into Levi's room. They acted as though this was the most natural thing in the world, to suddenly enter a guy's bedroom without permission or previous notice. They did not say anything as they entered, simply waving a quick hand in Levi's direction and acknowledging me with an equally brief nod. I stared at them, but Levi simply grinned and returned to his contemplation of the plaster.  
  
I was shocked, of course. I'd read books where girls climbed into guys' windows, but I didn't think that anybody actually acted so. My own parents would have had an instant heart attack if I'd ever even thought of doing something like this. Of course, my parents were extreme in their protectiveness, but I was still appalled. It seemed...indecent, to me.  
  
The two girls immediately joined us on the carpet, and Levi moved over to give them room, talking enthusiastically all the while about his latest election to the school government. I sat up when I realized he was not planning on making any introductions. I stared at the three of them, moving away and not knowing how I should react to this unexpected intrusion. The girls did not notice my curious and shocked gaze, or perhaps they didn't care, because they ignored me completely. I suppose I would have done the same. It can't be pleasant, having a strange girl stare at you as though you've just sprouted tentacles or a third eye.  
  
Eventually, I managed to close my gaping mouth, knowing that I wasn't exactly being polite. I took a good long look at them, thinking that they couldn't possibly be the sisters that Levi had spoken of so often. Still, they could not be anyone else. Levi had not described them in detail, but I was clever enough to put two and two together to come up with five.  
  
They were pretty enough, I suppose, though they were not even remotely like what I'd imagined. For one thing, I'd half-expected identical twins, and they most certainly were not. I would not, in fact, have even taken them to be sisters, had I not already known better.  
  
One of the girls had hair as black as midnight, while the other was blonde, and the eyes of one were green while the other had blue. Of course, that doesn't mean anything these days. One of them could simply have dyed her hair or bought contacts. Still, even their body structures were different. One was very tall and slender, while the other was short, though equally slight. Levi soon confirmed that they were, indeed, the sisters he was so fond of. He was positively gushing, excited that he finally had the opportunity to introduce the three of us to each other. I think he had a crush on the blonde.  
  
I realized that, had they not entered as they did, I would have been overjoyed to make their acquaintance. Levi had spoken of them so often, and with such gusto, that I couldn't help being charmed even before I actually set eyes on them. I brutally shoved my disquiet into the back of my mind, coming forward again as I offered my hand and my name. They immediately broke into wide grins, accepting the friendship I had not even realized I'd offered.  
  
They introduced themselves, and I found that they were twins in personality, at any rate. Both Raye and Mina were happy, carefree girls, extremely friendly and loveable. They were as joyful as I had once been serious, and they lived their lives to the fullest, never looking to the future.  
  
As with Levi and Lita, these two became a permanent part of my circle. I was never without one of my friends, having formed an attachment to them that was almost as strong as those to my family. They became family, in fact, no matter how unlike I was to them.  
  
The twins continued to shock me, however. Like Levi, tact was a foreign concept to them. They said or did whatever was on their minds, but they did so without malice and without any intent but to enjoy themselves. They did whatever they wanted, but they were also blindly supportive of my own actions-they tolerated me far more than I deserved. They were incredible friends, and they enriched my life with their presence.  
  
It wasn't until much later that I would realize that these two wonderful women were related to the blight of my entire existence: Darien, the boy whose shins I'd so unthinkingly kicked. I'll never understand how a family that can produce girls like the twins could also create a walking iceberg like Darien. It was simply too difficult a concept for my mind to grasp. Darien was rude, obnoxious, and totally unapproachable. The twins couldn't have been more different. But, I digress.  
  
Anyway, my circle was now complete. In the following years, I kept these four so close that finding one meant finding us all. We were never apart for long, even when one of us was sick. In fact, our parents eventually realized that the second one of our group fell ill, the other four would inevitably show symptoms. I owe my second bout of chicken pox to Mina, and she owes me for the two weeks she was incapacitated with the mumps. It was a fair trade, I think. 


	2. The Party

[pic]CHAPTER TWO  
  
  
  
My relationship with Darien was fairly simple in the early days. He hated me; I passionately hated him. He made my life a living-well, you get the idea.  
  
I have always considered myself to be a gentle person-forgiving, understanding, and utterly lacking in judgment of others. Darien's case, however, was the exception. Within moments of our first meeting, I wanted to kill him. It's been years, but I STILL want to kill him for some of the things he's done to me. Believe me, he deserves it.  
  
He drove me nuts, those first years. He seemed to have something against me, something that didn't even extend from the fact that I'd gotten him into trouble that first day of school. He was as furious with me as I was with him, though neither of us really had a reason for this intense hatred. We'd been rude to each other from the beginning, of course, but all common sense seemed to flee through the window when it came to Darien and I. Something about me just set him off. He constantly berated me, yelled at me, and called me derogatory names. I often did the same to him, though I was never as bad as he was.  
  
He did many things to make me loathe him. He broke into my locker and stole my lunch everyday. He made off with my backpack on more than one occasion, and he picked on my friends. Was it really surprising that I hated him? He was just plain mean to me.  
  
I never told anyone about it, though. Even if I had been able to prove any of the things he pulled on a regular basis, I'm not a tattletale. And it's not like I haven't gotten him back over the years, but I'll confess to those little incidents later. I just wished that he didn't have to be so unpredictable. I never knew what to expect from him, and I hated not being in control of any aspect of my life-especially this.  
  
Darien would also follow me around the school, practically stalking me. I think he was just trying to unnerve me, and it certainly worked. It's hard to think coherently when a very large, very angry young man is following you wherever you go. And always he watched me. Those blue eyes of his were always on me, though I could never read the expression in them. He was just studying me, I think, as a scientist studies a particularly loathsome insect. He scared me, sometimes, with his intensity.  
  
He also followed me home everyday, tailgating whatever vehicle I was in at the time. I'd often take different busses and routes, hoping he'd be confused and leave me alone. It never worked, though. Even if I went to a friend's house, he was able to track me. He always knew exactly where I was, and where I was going. It was creepy, really, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. He was too smart for my rather pitiful diversionary tactics.  
  
He toilet papered my house no less than seventeen times in one year. SEVENTEEN times! It's a wonder that there was any toilet paper left in the whole city. Of course, since my brothers loved cleaning it up (we once toilet papered our own house just so they could have some fun.), it didn't hurt anything. Still, it was simply one more reason to detest the boy.  
  
I suppose that I wasn't exactly a saint in this. I committed my share of atrocities. Little things, mostly, like sending a dozen pizzas to his house or covering his precious car with shaving cream. I couldn't toilet paper his house in return (my accomplices refused, saying that attacking their own house and their own brother was indecent), but I could still hold my own in this strange little war.  
  
I once bribed the office aid into giving me HIS locker combination, though I never took any of his things. I was far too subtle for that. Instead, I would just leave little notes where he would be sure to find them, stuffed into his jacket pockets or the door of his locker, and I always made those notes as creepy as possible. I wanted him to know that he was as much in my power as I was in his, though I wouldn't stoop to his level by stealing his jacket or textbooks as he did mine.  
  
Were we being immature? Undoubtedly, but I couldn't help myself. Darien seemed to bring out the worst in me. To anyone else, I was an angel. Well, maybe I wasn't quite THAT innocent, but I certainly never tried to target anyone as I targeted Darien. He was my enemy, and we both acknowledged this with blunt honesty.  
  
I suppose I could have prevented some or all of this if I'd been nicer to him from the beginning. Darien holds grudges, just as I tend to do, but he might have forgiven my trespass had I groveled to him from the outset. Of course, I've never been one for groveling. Still, I don't think the situation would have escalated so badly had it not been for the incident with the lemonade.  
  
Of all the places that I've lived in my life, I've yet to meet people as wonderful as those in Ohio. They may live in what my dad calls "God's ash tray", but they have such a joie de vie. Maybe they've just learned to appreciate what little life actually thrives in that frigid state.  
  
Ohioans, at least those in my neighborhood, are definitely party people. The people on my street threw block parties for every occasion. "Hey, a birthday! Let's have a block party! Oh, look, somebody's dog just had puppies! Let's have a kegger! All right! It's Wednesday! Where's the beer?" In spite of their constant state of drunkenness, I loved every one of them. Of course, I don't blame them for the keggers, either. If I didn't get sick at the mere sight of alcohol, I'd have gotten drunk on a regular basis just to escape the awful weather of the place.  
  
Anyway, these incredible people threw an even bigger party than usual about a month after we moved in. They claimed that they simply wanted to welcome us properly, but I later learned that they were suffering from alcohol deprivation. They hadn't gotten drunk together in nearly six weeks. Frankly, I'm surprised that they lasted that long, myself.  
  
Thinking that this party would be a chance for me to meet more people my age, I willingly went along with it. I even invited my new friends. (Only later did I realize that I was the only teenager on the entire street, not counting the boy next door who was even shyer than I was. If he so much as glimpsed a girl, he'd run in the house and not come out for the rest of the day. I understand that his mom had the hardest time getting him even to mow the lawn after I moved in. I never understood why this was so. It's not like I'm the type to strut around on my front lawn in a bikini just to catch the male eye. In the four years we lived there, I don't think I spoke to him on more than a half-dozen occasions. I can't think of what I did to make him so nervous.) Levi and Karen couldn't come, but the twins agreed to join me. To my eternal disgust, the girls brought Darien along. Or rather, he brought them.  
  
The party was awful, though the adults thoroughly enjoyed it. There just wasn't anything for me to do there. No one to speak to, no one with whom I had anything even remotely in common. I quickly became bored, though my hosts were nothing if not courteous.  
  
I spent nearly an hour at this party, and the boredom was phenomenal, but my mom wouldn't let me leave early. I had a book that I really wanted to read at home, and my friends were nearly an hour late. I tried to play with my brothers in an attempt to lessen this boredom, but I wasn't having any luck. My four brothers were still in the 'girls-are-icky' phase, and they were more intent on grossing me out than on providing entertainment. After only moments, I walked off and left them alone.  
  
I hadn't gotten very far, however, before I realized I had nowhere to go. I didn't feel like speaking to the other adults, and my parents were deep in conversation with one of our neighbors. Even if I was willing to interrupt their conversation, I knew they'd only tell me to mingle. They've always had this strange need to force me to be sociable.  
  
I stood in place for several seconds, wondering idly how I could sneak off before my parents noticed. They were seated at a table directly in front of the only true exit, and they would defiantly see me if I went past them. I glanced around, noticing that the fence was not high enough to prevent me from climbing it if I so wished. I could probably get away with this without being noticed, but the skirt I was wearing wouldn't allow me to hop the fence and still maintain even an illusion of dignity. I was almost willing to try anyway, though, as bored as I was. Still, what would my parents do to me if I ditched? They're firm believers in the idea that suffering through social boredom is good for me. But what did they know? They were enjoying themselves.  
  
But I wasn't about to spend the next three hours with these people. Who knew how long the party would last once the alcohol began to flow? As I considered this dilemma, I glanced up, coming eye to eye with the black- haired boy from my art class.  
  
I had, naturally, become more acquainted with Darien as the weeks passed. I had stayed away from him as much as possible, but the art room had never been that large. Besides that, he seemed to seek me out. He enjoyed teasing me, I think, and I must have provided a never-ending source of amusement for him. If I had not had Lita to bolster my confidence, I might have come to believe something was seriously wrong with me. Darien, I understand, has that effect on people.  
  
Our relationship had been rocky from the start. He was callous, often cruel, towards me, and I was nothing less than completely rude. Granted, I might not have fought with him so often if he had not begun each class by insulting me, but I was just as cruel as he, at times. Again, Darien has that effect on people.  
  
Darien was, by now, an accepted part of my life. Not a pleasant part, but accepted, nonetheless. He was rude, obnoxious, and boorish-and each day brought new reasons to justify my unreasonable hatred of him. I expected to see him everyday, but I never expected to see him at this monotonous party.  
  
I admit that I gaped a little. Okay, maybe I gaped a lot. Even though I thoroughly detested the man, he looked VERY good. I still remember what he was wearing that day: a white dress shirt and black slacks that clung to him like a second skin in all the right places. The shirt outlined his muscles, letting me see everything I could ever have wanted. Not that I did want to see, I hurried to correct myself. He was still Darien, after all. Still, I couldn't help staring. He may have had a zero personality, but the guy was HOT.  
  
Darien, of course, was as expressionless as ever. I think the only emotions he ever showed were anger and annoyance. He rarely smiled, and he had certainly never smiled at me before. Today was not like other days, though.  
  
To this day, I don't know how long he'd been watching me. I hadn't seen him arrive, so I couldn't gauge his time at the party. I'd been surveying the exit for at least ten minutes, though, and I would have seen his entrance if he'd just come. He must have been there for quite a while, watching me without my noticing. See? I told you he was creepy.  
  
I hadn't yet been able to shut my mouth, and I was, uh, practically drooling over him. In my defense, he WAS gorgeous. A jerk, maybe, but an extremely good-looking one. I've never been one to have my head turned by a handsome face, but Darien was more than simply attractive. He was positively striking. I don't think I blinked for an entire minute.  
  
Darien was still watching me, reading my face. My features are entirely too expressive for my own comfort, and I'm certain he realized exactly what had been going through my mind. He grinned when he saw my expression, causing even more devastation to my respiratory system. I don't think I was breathing at the time, and he saw that, as well. "Catching flies, shortie?" he teased viciously in reference to my open mouth, and his blue eyes were alight with mischief.  
  
Naturally, his reference to my diminutive stature made me mad. I know that I'm tiny, reaching a paltry 5' 2", while this guy was at least 6'4". It's always been a sore point for me that I inherited my mother's short genes when my father and other siblings are so very tall. My vertical impairment has rankled my entire life, and Darien had just pushed the one button that would truly send me over the edge. I was seeing red before the words had even finished spilling from his lips.  
  
Seeing how this subject was so sensitive to me, Darien really shouldn't have made that comment. At the very least, he should have made certain that I wasn't near anything small enough to throw. Of course, he didn't know *then* about my penchant for tossing heavy objects at people's heads when I'm mad. I have terrible aim usually, but make me angry enough and I can hit a moving object from several meters away. The pitcher of lemonade on the table next to me was no exception. Before Darien had time to react, the pitcher was already flying for his head. It hit him dead on, spilling sticky lemonade down his nice shirt. Luckily for me, the pitcher was plastic. Otherwise, I'm sure it would have broken as soon as it impacted with his hard, stubborn head.  
  
Darien was staring at me, open-mouthed with shock and fury. I don't think he expected me to behave that way, but he knows better now. I've noticed that ever since that day, he was more careful with his timing. He learned to wait until I was without feasible ammo before insulting me. Better timing or not, though, he was still a jerk to me.  
  
My parents had been watching the entire thing, of course. My mom immediately started laughing her head off. That's one of the qualities I've always like about my mother: whenever somebody gets mad or hurt, she just starts laughing. She's not insensitive, just unsympathetic.  
  
At least she never blames me when I lose my temper, especially since I inherited that temper and my tendency to throw things from her. My dad was a little more concerned with my lack of decorum, but he knew better than to get in my way when I'm mad. It doesn't happen often, and it's rarely directed at him, so he doesn't usually care when I erupt. In this case, though, he insisted that I take Darien back to our house and clean him up. This surprised me, since my dad was infamously paranoid about males and I- he's one of those fathers who guard their daughters with a loaded shotgun. He must have been REALLY embarrassed by my less than sterling behavior.  
  
My first impulse was to refuse. I didn't want to spend any more time with Darien than I had to, especially when Darien was both sticky and angrier than usual. But my father was almost livid with fury, and I knew better than to oppose him. I knew my easy-going father would calm down if I did as he asked.  
  
To escape my father's lectures, I grudgingly walked Darien back to my house. Since the party had been only a few houses away, the walk was mercifully short. He walked behind me, and I could just feel his angry blue eyes on the back of my head.  
  
I ignored him, though I was still trying to come up with a reason for his presence. I didn't yet know where he lived, but I didn't think he could have been invited to the party. Even after only a month, I already knew what my matchmaking neighbors would have made of him, had they known beforehand of his existence. They would have been preaching his virtues to me for weeks before the actual party. I thought it safe to assume that they didn't know any more of him than I.  
  
So what was he doing there? As I'd said before, I was the only teenager on the block. I know that *I* hadn't invited him. Who else could have?  
  
I finally gave into my insatiable curiosity. I stopped walking, turning on my heel so suddenly that he almost crashed into me. "What are you doing here?" I demanded rudely, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes. He glared at me, not answering for a long moment. Finally, he shrugged and rolled his eyes, not meeting mine. "My sisters wanted to come," he answered coldly. "I had no idea you would be here."  
  
I stared at him, wondering why he was blushing. Of course, I might have just been imagining the color staining his cheeks, but I didn't think so. Still, I didn't really care about whatever thoughts were running through his head. I didn't like him well enough to care. I turned and resumed my walk, Darien following behind like a particularly rabid dog.  
  
My house was not far. It was a gray-painted, sprawling building, surrounded by the unlovely garden I had yet to replace with my own plants. The outside was rather sparse, the grass killed by the previous owners. Even the trees were limp, and I always felt rather depressed by the lack of greenery. This, of course, only made my anger deepen. I have little respect for those people who plant for the sake of appearances but don't respect life enough to maintain their gardens.  
  
I truly hated walking through that yard. It depressed me immensely, furthering my anger towards all things in general. I knew I couldn't even try re-landscaping until the next winter had come and gone, but I wasn't too eager for the wait. My frustration with my garden only incensed me further, and Darien was the unlucky sop destined to catch the edge of that anger. By the time we entered the front door, I was practically growling.  
  
I grudgingly allowed Darien to enter my home. He stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. I scrutinized his face, watched him scan my home with those intense eyes of his. He was staring, face stunned.  
  
I'm honestly not bragging when I call my home beautiful. The previous owner, though incapable as a gardener, had spent hours designing the house. He'd hand-carved the banisters and mantles, placed stained-glass windows on the sides of the house that would catch the most light. The interior was spacious and airy, delicately colored and painstakingly crafted. The place was positively lovely, and I was somehow proud to see the wonder in Darien's eyes. In spite of his many other faults, at least the man had taste enough to appreciate the inspiring beauty of my home.  
  
The light was hitting those incredible windows as Darien glanced around, faint surprise clear in his eyes. The colored glass tinged the light pouring through the window, filling the entryway with every shade of the rainbow. I snuck yet another quick glance at Darien. I could see the admiration on his face, and I couldn't help but grin at his expression. He was impressed.  
  
I couldn't blame him. Even after a solid month in this house, the rainbows still dazzled me, as well. Had he not insulted me with his next breath, I could have forgiven him everything just for the look of amazement in his eyes.  
  
He finally tore his eyes away from the glittering light, turning to look at me with that same surprise in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking: after my crude treatment of him, he was more or less shocked that I lived in such a lovely place. He had, I think, expected my family and my home to be as low-class as my behavior towards him had been.  
  
Once again, I could not blame him. I had, at times, treated him with more ill mannered contempt than I had previously thought myself capable of. I was, I think, as guilty of uncouth treatment as he. I would have been ashamed of myself had he not returned my disdain with as much fervor as possible. He made my life far more miserable than I did his.  
  
I knew the thoughts running through his mind, but I still asked, "What's wrong?" as he continued to stare at me. He blinked, abruptly wiping the expression from his face. "Nothing," he answered, but the damage had already been done. Once again, I was furious. Still, I said nothing. The fact that he thought poorly of me did not concern me in the least, and so I kept my mouth sealed on the scathing words rising to my lips. Insulting him, I felt, would only enforce his lack of faith in my refinement. My temper, however, is intense. Had Darien and I not been interrupted, I might have lost what little control I still retained.  
  
Though my parents had obviously failed to teach me proper manners, they had succeeded in teaching their children the importance of responsibility. Since I was a small child, I've always had at least one pet to care for. It's been difficult, at times, to maintain their health when we've spent so much time moving around, but I've learned to manage. At this point in my life, I had in my care a cockatiel who was, incidentally, absolutely insane.  
  
As with my own, my pet's brain must have a loose connection somewhere. From her behavior, I would almost have to say that she's schizophrenic. At times, she's perfectly calm, perfectly amiable. At others, she'll work herself into a frenzy over nothing, beating herself against the cage until she becomes stunned and drops to the bottom. I've taken her to the vet repeatedly, but there doesn't seem to be anything clinically wrong with her. She'll simply go nuts, and I can never anticipate her crazy spells.  
  
Anyway, I've never been quite able to decide if my pet is intelligent or not. I know that she's either very stupid, or very smart, depending on my viewpoint at the time. After her actions with Darien, I've decided that she's utterly brilliant...or at least a wonderful judge of character.  
  
This bird of mine has a nasty little habit of getting free of her cage. I've yet to learn how she breaks free, though I've watched her for hours at a time, trying to learn her secret. Perhaps she simply has skills of which I'm not aware. Who knows?  
  
When she does break loose, she'll fly around the room, looking for me. She won't go to anyone else, and she always knows when I'm in the house and where I am at any given moment. She must have a compass for a brain, after all.  
  
As I've said, my pet is insane. I swear that she gets jealous of other people, because she'll bite anyone who comes near me. Unfortunately for Darien, she'd gotten loose again. I had not seen her when we entered, so intent had I been on Darien's reaction to my home. I still did not see her as she flew towards me, perhaps because I was too concerned with controlling my anger to pay attention. My pet, however, was more observant. She saw Darien, and she went straight for his eyes.  
  
My bird was never meant to be a huntress. She made the mistake of crying out as she attacked. Darien and I heard her, and we whirled to face this kamikaze bird. She made a pass at his head, but he reacted with razor- sharp reflexes as he ducked with a faint exclamation of surprise. She missed, barely, but immediately swung around for another attack. He was not quite so fast as before, and she struck him across the face.  
  
He yelped as her sharp beak slashed his cheek, his hand instantly flying to the shallow cut already welling with blood. I gaped stupidly at him, not really feeling bad but wondering if I should do something to control my pet. I finally shrugged, lifting one hand high into the air as my pet prepared for another dive. She came obediently, landing gently on my outstretched palm. She ruffled her wings once as I brought my hand down, letting her hop onto my shoulder.  
  
Darien swore violently. I'm certain the cut stung, but I honestly had little sympathy for any of Darien's suffering. I maintain the protest that he had done everything to deserve the bird's attack, and nothing to deserve my concern. Still, I was, perhaps, overly heartless as he turned to me, eyes blazing. If looks could kill, I would be dead.  
  
The bird might have been able to sense his fury, for she spread her wings and began to hiss at him, snapping her sharp beak as though wishing she could have another shot at his eyes. Darien reflexively moved back, though I know he was not in the least afraid of my little pet.  
  
He did not, however, see the thick rug spread across the tiling of the entryway. He tripped over it, falling to the floor with a painful thump. To his credit, he didn't cry out at the pain the hard floor must have caused when it connected with him. Of course, it wouldn't have been quite so bad if he'd fallen on his head. At least then he wouldn't have had to worry about injury.  
  
He looked up at me, glaring fiercely. I suppose my lips were twitching. I wasn't exactly pleased that he'd been injured, but I was amused by the look on his face. He was furious, I knew, but this didn't bother me as I'd hardly ever seen him without anger in his eyes. Once again, I was grateful that human expression couldn't be fatal. He tried to get up, but he slipped once more on the rug and returned to his uncomfortable position on the floor. His glare intensified.  
  
I couldn't help it; I started to laugh so hard that I thought I was going to cry. I grabbed my sides and just howled. The tears of laughter were streaming down my cheeks, but I didn't have the strength to wipe them away. I surrendered myself to the laughter, feeling some of the tension caused by that awful party being released.  
  
The bird added her voice to mine, and Darien was becoming more furious by the minute. Can you blame me, though? The guy looked absolutely ridiculous, on the floor and covered in lemonade as he was. It was funny. I still chuckle when I think of it. Darien's face was priceless.  
  
The doorbell rang as I stood there, still struggling to breath against the intensity of my laughter. I placed a gentle hand over my pet's wings, not wanting her to escape through the door as I tried to control myself long enough to open it.  
  
To my surprise, the twins were on the other side. I was still laughing too hard to speak, so I simply motioned them inside with my free hand. They stepped in, and I closed the door, still laughing. They stared at me as though I had gone insane, their eyes moving to Darien's prone form.  
  
The laughter disappeared as the twins stared at Darien in patent disbelief. "Darien?" Raye exclaimed, obviously surprised. "What are you doing here?" She moved to help him to his feet, and he accepted her offered hand without comment or protest.  
  
My eyebrow shot into my hairline. "You know this jerk?" I demanded, once again forgetting the common courtesy I owed a guest in my home. The girls turned to stare at me, consternation clear on their faces. "Darien?" Mina echoed. "He's our brother."  
  
I gaped at them, my mouth falling open in a rather embarrassing parody of a simpleton. "Your brother?" I repeated, still feeling rather dense. "This jerk is your brother?"  
  
Once again, I did not seem to understand the concept of tact. I, perhaps, ought not to have insulted him so clearly, at least not in front of his sisters. I know that I would never tolerate anyone else insulting my own siblings, even if I'm angry at them myself. Frankly, I didn't expect them to tolerate my words, even though I was a friend.  
  
"I'm sorry," I hastened to apologize, not wanting to force them to make a choice between defending their brother or expressing their concern for me. I had been steadily complaining about Darien since I moved in, but I don't believe I had ever mentioned his name. Up until that moment, I had not even known his last name, anyway, so I could not have made the connection between them.  
  
Okay, so I wasn't really sorry. Darien *was* a jerk, and I certainly didn't feel bad for insulting him thus. He had hurt me time and again, over the course of our brief acquaintance, with his words and his actions. Besides, the man had a heart as cold as ice. He wouldn't feel anything that I said to him.  
  
The twins, at least, accepted my apology without protest. I was their friend, after all, and they knew I would not continue to malign Darien. He, however, was not so easily convinced. Still, he said nothing, bending instead to straighten the rug. There was an awkward silence, followed by an even more pregnant pause as Raye finally questioned the fate of Darien's shirt.  
  
Once again, Darien should be given a small measure of credit. He didn't accuse me, didn't even look at me with blame in those incredible eyes. He simply shrugged, glancing with irritation at the bright stains on his shirt.  
  
I was, admittedly, surprised that he hadn't placed the blame on me, as he should have. I was, after all, at fault. He met my gaze, shrugging again and looking away. I finally collected myself, turning with sudden frankness to the twins. "I'm afraid it's my fault," I confessed. "A pitcher of lemonade interfered with a discussion we were having."  
  
The girls stared at me, confused. "Oh," Mina finally said. "Did you drop the glass on him or something?" I laughed. "Nope," I grinned. "I threw it at him." I turned to Darien, and my glance was appraising. "I have great aim, don't you think?" I quipped cheerfully. 


	3. The War Commences

CHAPTER THREE  
  
If I tried, I suppose I could remember the first prank Darien ever played on me. This happened some time ago, you understand, and I never really was very good at remembering the smaller details. In my own defense, his first prank must have been something small, something so insignificant that it pales in comparison to all the other things he'd done to me, because I can't quite recall the exact action. I vaguely remember noticing, that first week, that a few minor objects were missing from my locker-a monogrammed pencil, a favorite notebook, maybe even a textbook. All things that I would, knowing how poor my memory can be at times, have dismissed as being misplaced, not stolen.  
  
You'd think that, having lived in California for so long, I'd recognize petty theft when I saw it-I should have noticed that the disappearances were too frequent to be coincidence. I should have, I suppose, but I didn't. It simply never occurred to me that anyone would *want* to steal from me. I've never been in the habit of taking anything valuable to school, knowing I'd likely lose it, so there seemed little motivation in robbing me. I simply didn't have anything worth the effort of taking.  
  
My mother has always told me that I'm far too trusting. Because I would never hurt anyone deliberately, I tend to assume that all others are the same way. It'll be my downfall someday, as my mother constantly informs me. She claims that I'm too innocent for my own good. I guess she's right, in a way. While I didn't exactly trust Darien, I also never thought he would stoop so low, especially for something as simple as that kick I'd given him. I thought he was better than that.  
  
Apparently, I was wrong. He'd begun the pranks from the first, stealing my things, calling me names. He seemed to have a never-ending repertoire of insults. He was, in every possible way, cruel to me. I thought he was the lowest human being on earth, crude and boorish. I truly hated him, then, but not even I imagined how awful he could be.  
  
Darien, as I've noticed many times before and since, is a very proud man. He wasn't even remotely Darcy-ish, but he was certainly convinced of his own charms. He enhanced those charms by keeping his appearance perfectly intact. He felt, I think, that both his appearance and his reputation had to be above reproach by even the most fastidious of people if he was to succeed in life.  
  
I must say, in all fairness, that had Darien ever believed strongly in something, he would have defended that idea to the end-even to the detriment of his character. He only cared about public opinion as it related to his career, though this concern of his was still too strong. He sometimes became blind-sighted by his goals, and this made him a little obsessive.  
  
Until I came along, he had kept up that perfection of appearance and repute with ease. Only after I moved in did people begin to speak about him with anything short of praise. He changed, after I came.  
  
To everyone but his sisters, Darien's behavior was not as perfect as it had once been, and many of our peers chastised him for his treatment of me. He couldn't quite accept that chastisement, especially since he had once been- and still was, really, though he couldn't see it-the one against whom all others were measured against. He had always been the Golden Boy of our community, and only his attitude towards me changed that. The knowledge of this rankled, I suppose, because he never quite forgave me for my tendency to bring out his mortal shortcomings. He felt that he was letting people down by being human and having human faults, I guess.  
  
I would have thought he'd have considered this before he started with his tricks. You'd think someone who spends so much time obsessing about his rep would have assessed the consequences his behavior would have. Still, the fact that people were slighting him, even with the good humor in which our fights were generally viewed, made him angry and unreasonable. His reputation was everything to him.  
  
I was of an entirely different breed, not even remotely caring about anyone's reputation at all-including mine. It simply never mattered to me what people thought about me or anyone else. I knew how easily people could misinterpret a situation, so I'd long since stopped being concerned. It just wasn't important to me. I knew who I was, and I knew what I was capable of. What did it matter to me if people thought more or less of me than they should? I wasn't going to change for anyone, and so I didn't get flustered as Darien did.  
  
Maybe the reason Darien was so offended by me was because he thought I went out of my way to tarnish his character in the eyes of our fellow students. While 'tarnish' might be a bit strong, I did humiliate him as often as possible-usually in response to something he'd done to me. People *were* talking about us, I admit, and not all of those whisperings were favorable. He hated that, and because I was the cause of it, he was in a state of perpetual anger towards me.  
  
The situation at school didn't help. The twins thought our fight was silly- rightly so, perhaps-and they didn't hesitate to voice that opinion to everyone we knew. Soon enough, the entire school was aware of how much Darien and I hated each other, and our fellow students would gossip endlessly about the many things we'd done or said to hurt each other. The ongoing argument between the two of us was seen as a never-ending joke to our schoolmates, and Darien never could tolerate being laughed at.  
  
The situation rapidly deteriorated as news of our fights spread. I'd thought I'd seen the worst he had to offer, but Darien quickly proved me wrong. How could I have known the pranks were only the beginning? I had thought Darien had gone as far as even his nature allowed, but I had yet to learn the true extent of his fury. Darien had always been mean to me, but the 'discussion' with the lemonade pushed even him beyond the known limits of fury.  
  
Darien had stormed out of my house that day, muttering something rude about me. I let him go without comment, not wanting to prolong his stay enough even to properly yell at him for insulting me. He slammed the door behind him, and I simply shrugged and turned away. I spared only a moment's thought to the cussing out my father was bound to give me for not rectifying the situation with that stubborn man, but I was perfectly convinced of my own rightness in this. Darien was a jerk, and I never could forgive short jokes. Dad would understand, especially if I never actually got around to telling him that I hadn't made things better with Darien. He couldn't yell at me if he didn't know-ignorance is bliss, after all.  
  
The twins, too, watched Darien leave without saying a word. They turned to me once he had gone, questions burning clearly in their eyes. I simply shrugged, not trusting myself enough to speak of the situation, even to them. Darien, even discussion of Darien, made me lose what little control I possessed, and I didn't want to make the twins angry by beginning this dissection of either my motivations or Darien's negative personality.  
  
Besides, I knew the twins wouldn't see Darien in the same light as I, anyway. They thought he set the moon, saw only the loving, sweet face he turned to them. To them, Darien was the embodiment of masculine superiority, the perfect brother. They always assumed I was overreacting or exaggerating. They didn't think he was capable of being cruel, and they couldn't or wouldn't understand why he treated me as he did. The twins were strangely protective of this brother of theirs, and I didn't want to set off their own formidable tempers by continuing to insult him. I'm smart enough to know better than that, after all-and the twins are scary when angry.  
  
Looking on the bright side, at least I didn't have to go back to that party. My parents assumed I was still taking care of Darien, and I never bothered to correct them. Instead, I spent the afternoon with the twins, watching television and challenging them on my brothers' video and computer games. I think we played Monopoly for about three straight hours.  
  
The twins, for perhaps the first and only time in their lives, were noticeably tactful. They never mentioned Darien that day, and I accepted their silence. I didn't really want to talk about Darien, especially not with his sisters, and I wanted to think things over myself before I tried to verbalize my anger towards him. I maintained my stubborn silence until their mother came for them.  
  
The twins' mother is a lot like them, sweetly blunt and eternally vibrant. She had Raye's dark hair and Darien's intense eyes, and I could see a little of Mina's grace in her features. She was a lovely woman, beautiful inside and out, and I liked her immediately. Still, I was a little nervous. I didn't know what Darien had told her about me, after all, though I was certain the twins' opinions would counteract anything he had said about me.  
  
Their mother, however, simply nodded with cool politeness when she finally noticed me. She was obviously tired, and I don't think my presence even registered, at first. She was almost haggard that afternoon, and I pitied her, a little-she obviously led a hard life. Only later did I learn that her lack of energy came more from her rather demanding job than anything else-she owned and managed one of the local eateries, and she was always on the move. She rarely had any time to rest, but I think she was happy enough.  
  
The girls, of course, immediately asked about Darien's whereabouts. His mother had, I learned, insisted that he accompany the twins to the party, wanting to ensure their safety in a strange neighborhood. When his sisters inquired as to the reason he had not returned to fetch them, the mother merely stated that her son had been a little too occupied to come as he'd promised.  
  
The mother was watching us, a faintly exasperated smile on her lips as she eventually confessed that Darien had ruined one of his more expensive shirts, and she'd absolutely refused to do the washing for him. In her anger, she'd reacted by assigning the entire week's washing to her son.  
  
Throughout this entire speech, Darien's mother had not looked at me with any sign that she knew the cause of that stain on Darien's precious shirt. Darien was not, apparently, any more of a tattletale than I. He had not told her, I knew, or she would be reacting to me with more emotion than she was.  
  
The twins, though, glanced at me as she explained Darien's absence, and they were snickering audibly. I admit that I blushed, shrugging quickly and dismissively to their blatant laughter. Darien's mother, of course, immediately divined the situation, and she frowned slightly. Still, she said nothing as she glanced me over, and her compelling, intensely electric eyes-so like her son's-were appraising. I squirmed, but her forceful gaze quickly left me. She didn't say anything more, instead ushering her wayward children out the door and into her waiting car.  
  
The sudden silence was deafening. My home was too large for just one person, and I quickly felt almost lonely. Still, I'd wanted space to think, and think I did. I restored my pet to her cage, returning to the children's playroom and throwing myself down on the couch. I stared up at the patterns in my ceiling, too lethargic to do anything really productive. Instead, I focused on Darien.  
  
Did I feel guilty for getting Darien into trouble for something I'd done? Of course not. I reiterate that Darien deserved anything he received. I pitied the twins, though, knowing somehow that Darien didn't understand a thing about laundry, and the girls would have to wear whatever articles of clothing they could salvage from his attempts. I felt bad for them, but I did not feel guilty about Darien. Once again, he deserved this.  
  
Still, I was curious as to why Darien hadn't simply explained my role in the destruction of his shirt. Why hadn't he told his mother about me? What could she have done, even if she had known whom I was or where to find me? Darien could have gotten himself out of trouble, but, as far as I know, he didn't even try. I have to admire him for that, if nothing else. I've always loathed snitches-even when said snitching is relatively harmless.  
  
So, once again, Darien was being punished for something I had done. I didn't feel guilty for that, especially since he more than returned the favor in time. I can't count the number of occasions on which I was grounded or punished for something he did to me that I had little or no control over. Again, he'd earned this many times over. I did, however, feel a little bad about the lemonade ruining his shirt. I, too, hated laundry, and I can only imagine how much he despised me just then.  
  
Perhaps, after all this time, I can finally admit that I was at least partly to blame for the situation between us. I can admit that now, when Darien can't hear me. I could never apologize to the big oaf, even years later. I've never been able to admit responsibility to his face, knowing how much my confession would inflate that already considerable ego of his. Believe me, that man was arrogant enough already.  
  
Of course, Darien didn't need to rat on me. He was more than capable of coming up with his own unique brand of revenge, actions that were far worse than simply telling on me for my abhorrent behavior. He seemed to feel that my dealings with the lemonade warranted atrocities of his own. He was, as I have said before, quite clever in his execution of those pranks.  
  
Darien had never possessed any qualms about acting out in juvenile ways once his reputation was irrevocably smeared. From almost the first day of our acquaintance, Darien had gone out of his way to make my life miserable. However, he became ten times worse after the party.  
  
He attacked with a vengeance, after that day. His pranks, once somewhat benign, became positively cruel. He began to attack my friends, as well, using his own circle of companions to further the suffering. He had many friends, quite a few of whom were upperclassmen who would just leap at the opportunity to deal roughly with the freshmen.  
  
My locker was now no-man's land, of course, and I had long since given up trying to keep my stuff inside, knowing Darien would simply take it anyway. Instead, I was forced to either carry everything with me at all times or rely on my other friends for locker space. This annoyed me, because I never could remember where I'd left some of my stuff. My memory is very poor in situations like these.  
  
I had, at least, the comfort of knowing that I had done the same to Darien. He, too, gave up his locker space as I persisted in my invasion of his territory. It was an acknowledged defeat-he could not take my things, and I had nothing in which to leave my notes. We moved on, he and I, to stronger and more horrible pranks.  
  
Our war soon became quite infamous among the students and eventually even the faculty. Everyone knew of it, and most were willing to take sides against one or the other of us. Of course, my fellow students thought it a game. Only Darien and I were truly passionate about our fight. It was more than a matter of honor for us; our triumph over each other became vital to our continued well-being. We each felt that we had to win, that our very happiness depended on the complete subversion of one by the other. It became an obsession for us, and not a day went by that didn't involve some horrendous act.  
  
Our friends were only slightly better. Though most of the students were only involved for the fun of it, we quickly appointed captains, of a sort. With Darien and I as the opposing commanders, it was only natural that we obtain a hierarchy of soldiers. After me, only Lita, Heidi, and Levi took this fight somewhat seriously. The twins, of course, simply went along with whichever side had the best plan at the moment. They found the entire situation hilarious.  
  
Darien's three 'generals' were especially vicious. Thought not one of them could compare with Darien himself, they all had terrible imaginations of their own. Darien's best friends, Greg, Andrew, and Lita's eldest brother, Ryan, were the harbingers of nightmare.  
  
Fortunately, my friends were not without protection. Darien, of course, declared his sisters sacrosanct, and Heidi and Levi's cousin was senior class president. Not even the most violent of students wanted to mess with her, especially since she was also on the yearbook and school newspaper committees and could humiliate her fellow students in countless ways. Omara could, at any given moment, make their lives miserable should they choose to bother her beloved cousins, and she had a vindictive streak a mile wide. She was always perfectly sweet to me, but she despised Darien and his cronies. I think she'd dated one or more of them at some point in her life, and her disgust with them was almost as deep-seated as my own.  
  
Of the five of us, only Lita and I were truly vulnerable. Lita's brother was perfectly willing to allow the pranks Darien's set pulled on us, and she found no safety in her relationship with him. Though I'm certain he loved his sister, he was not averse to watching her suffer at the hands of his companions. In fact, he was often the main instigator of those pranks, though he could never compare to his leader.  
  
I, of course, had no one. My only family lives in Europe and Africa, with a few scattered relatives in Canada. I had only one cousin living nearby, and she had graduated from college already and so could not help me in any way. Most of my friends were unwilling to protect me-even if I had wanted that protection-because I was, quite simply, the main cause of these wars. They would not interfere in what I had started, and I did not want or expect them to. I wanted to triumph over Darien using only my own merits, and they knew this, though I was willing to concede for the punishment of his cronies.  
  
Darien and I competed in everything. When I ran for a school office, he would also run. He and I were joint-officers in nearly every club in school. He was in every sport or after school program that I was in, and we even had many of the same classes. I was with him for the better part of every day, and we often had to work on school projects together. He was like a cockroach that just won't die-I couldn't get rid of the big lug. My assertion that he was a part of me, though, is certainly understandable in light of our almost incessant contact.  
  
We even ate lunch together. He'd been joining the twins at lunch for years, and not even he would break this tradition just because we fought so violently. He usually sat across from me at our absurdly large table, surrounded by his friends as I was surrounded by mine. We rarely spoke, refusing even to exchange insults while we were eating. There was a sort of truce at that hour everyday, and we would not break it. Our friends and allies needed this time to cool the tempers that usually rose during the day's battles, and Darien and I would not take that brief, shallow peace away. Sanity, after all, was just important as victory.  
  
Darien, however, wasn't completely peaceful during meals. He continued to watch me, never taking those cobalt eyes of his away from my face. No matter whom he was speaking to or what he was doing, he never lifted his eyes from mine. I learned to ignore him somewhat, though he made this difficult at times. Darien was the most intense man I have ever met, and I don't think anyone could ever truly ignore him.  
  
At any rate, the war had escalated. Darien seemed to spend all of his free time devising new methods of torture, and his was an inventive mind. I am truly amazed at some of the things he did to me. Darien was quite the strategist, really.  
  
He might even have won-at least had I not been his opponent. 


	4. Knight in Shining Armor

A.N.:  Okay, here's the next chapter.  I know it's been months and months since I updated last, and I just couldn't take the guilt any longer.  It's not great, but it's the best I could come up with on two hours of sleep.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Darien and I couldn't have been more different, and this was, perhaps, the reason why every interaction between us inevitably became violent.  He was nothing like me, calm, emotionless but for his constant anger towards me, serious and reserved.  I, on the other hand, was the wild one, the passionate one.  I might have been what school children have always called 'book-worms', but I was also the only one reckless enough to continue the pranks that, in any other situation, would have been far past the point of ridiculousness.  

As I have said, Darien was a stubborn man.  Stubborn or not, though, he never had a prayer of beating me.  His temperament was too ill suited to this sort of thing.  His need for control was too strong, especially when our battles and our pranks were so completely _out_ of control.  He couldn't let himself go, even for a moment.  I often wondered how he held out for so long.  He did not seem capable of the passion needed for a war such as ours.  

So, too, was I more qualified for this.  I was better at this than he could ever be, and he still didn't know me well enough to predict _all _of my actions.  With four younger brothers, the masters of pranks, I had learned to direct my imagination towards mischief.  I have an almost unlimited number of pranks in my mind, and a complete willingness to carry those pranks out.  I'd had years of experience with this sort of thing, and, once again, he never stood a chance of defeating me.

I admit that I sunk to his level many times over the course of our acquaintance.  Earlier problems aside, I eventually started to toilet paper his house as often as he did mine—without the twins' help, of course—often using rolls saved from his own attacks.  I chose to take advantage of the fact that he continuously and rather stupidly provided me with free ammo each time he struck my home, and I was far more ruthless than he could ever be.  I hadn't grown up in California for nothing, after all.  For Californians, toilet papering has been raised to an art form.  

Of course, I didn't stop there.  I bribed his sisters into giving me a copy of his car keys, and I'd often break in and steal whatever I found inside—textbooks, backpack, his favorite CD.  I didn't really care what I left with, not as long as he knew I'd been there.  I just made sure I wasn't around each time he realized that I'd broken into his car yet again.  Terrible temper, that boy.  

He never said anything to me, though.  That, of course, would have been a form of tattling, and we never did _that_, at least.  Our only rule in this war—unspoken though it was—was that we never reported or accused the other of anything.  We suffered in silence—at least until we'd thought up ample revenge for whatever act the other had pulled.  It was more fun for all of us, that way.  

I even covered his precious car in dish soap once.  That car of his was the apple of his eye, so to speak, and I wanted to cut him where he'd hurt the most, especially since he'd stolen my backpack right out of my arms only the morning before I revenged myself on his car.  I'd spent the entire day looking for it, only to find that he'd kindly dropped it off at my last class.  He always was considerate.

I was even more furious than usual after that particular prank.  He'd attached a note to the front of my bag, firmly affixed with a bobby pin.  I don't remember what he wrote on that slip of paper, but I do know that it had involved 'Shortie', his favorite nickname for me.  I reiterate that I cannot be held responsible for what I do to people who laugh at my height.  He brought that on himself.

So I went a little overboard.  I snuck over to his house that evening, carrying a large bag filled to the brim with bottles of liquid soap.  I think I might even have grinned a little fiendishly as I proceeded to empty every single one of those bottles over the hood and trunk of his car.  I gave the windows a liberal smearing, and I even soaked his antenna.  What can I say?  He'd really made me angry.

I felt guilty afterwards, though, because I'd heard somewhere that one of the chemicals in the soap destroys paint.  I crept back that very night and scrubbed every drop off by hand.  I would have felt awful if he'd had to repaint his car because of me.  I'm not that terrible a person, after all, that I would be willing to permanently damage something so important to him.  I think I'm just lucky that he didn't find out.

In spite of these juvenile pranks, Darien was not always my enemy.  There were times when he came through for me as not even my closest friends could have, times when he supported and looked after me.  Those times were rare, of course, but they did happen.

I was overtired, that day after I'd soaped down Darien's car.  The actual crime had taken half the night, and I'd spent the other half rectifying my sin.  I never actually went to bed.  As a result, I was something of a zombie the next morning, and I wasn't coherent enough to make the morning bus.  I'd been forced to jog to school, and, naturally, I was terribly late—I'm a fully capable jogger now, of course, but I wasn't then.  Who would run in a blizzard, after all?  I was a good three hours late, and, by the time I finally arrived, I'd missed my first two classes.

This was not the first time I'd missed the bus, of course, though it was the first time I actually lost so great a portion of the school day.  I've never been a morning person, and I often had difficulties waking in time—and, consequently, I had even more difficulties getting to school in time for the first bell.  I think I received more tardies in my first year than any other student had ever earned during an entire high school career.  I was something of a legend, I believe.

I spent countless hours with my vice principal, getting lectures on the importance of punctuality.  We even ended up on a first name basis, I spent so much time in his office, getting yelled at.  He had my parents on speed-dial, and he and his wife were over for dinner at least once a week—usually so they could discuss whatever it was that I'd done wrong.  This day, however, was the last straw in that man's patience, and I think this was the point when even he had to stop laughing at my habits and choose to really punish me.

I was chastised severely, given a rather long and tedious essay to write about the aforementioned values of punctuality and courtesy to others.  I was even ordered to spend my free hour—the last hour of the school day—in the library, preparing extensive notes on the subject.  Ah, well.  Of all the punishments my vice principal might have chosen, this was the easiest—the bookworm thing still held, after all.

Once again, I have to take responsibility for the events of that day.  Having a war between Darien and I was one thing, but I should never have allowed our conflicts to spill over into academics.  I'd wanted to use that free hour to catch up on my homework for other classes, and I'd wasted the remainder of the morning being lectured about tardiness.  Not for the first time, I'd gone too far.  Unfortunately, it couldn't be helped.  I was stuck in the library for the rest of my afternoon, having lost my study hall to my own impulsiveness and guilt.  I can't count the number of times I cursed my better nature that day—my conscience was entirely at fault here!  If I hadn't gone back to fix Darien's car, I might have gotten to school on time the next morning.  

Stupid Darien with his stupid pranks and his stupid car…  

Oh, goody—I had a new mantra.

Even if I had gotten enough sleep the night before, though, I still think something of the sort would have happened.  With Ohioan weather being what it was, this event was probably inevitable, though I might also have avoided it for a little while longer.  Well, maybe this one instance wouldn't have been so extreme, but it was still fate.

I don't think I like Fate.  

So I went to the library, beginning work on the silly paper that, to this day, I still don't believe I actually had to write.  It seemed, to me, at least, to be the sort of thing school teachers had once required of students living in the days of hoop skirts and horse-driven carriages.  It was, however, effective enough.  I think I actually toned down the number of tardies I received, after that.  I don't mind writing papers, but this was just nonsense that I was not all that eager to repeat, and I did everything I could to avoid going through this whole affair again.

Of course, the principal was not the only thing conspiring against me.  The day had been overcast from the beginning, and everyone at the school seemed unusually sleepy and quiet.  There was an almost subdued atmosphere about the school, and this contributed to my own lethargy.  I, like Darien, never stood a chance of avoiding what was to come.

The library was far too silent, and I never could have stayed awake.  It just wasn't possible for someone like me.  My study hall took up the last hour of the day, and I was already dragging by the time I finally arrived.  I managed to complete only a handful of paragraphs for my paper before I put my head on the desk and fell completely asleep.

I still don't know how I managed it.  I slept through the final bell, through the tumult and chaos of several hundred departing students.  Since I had chosen a rather obscure corner of the library, none of the workers or my fellow students had even noticed me, and I was, of course, locked inside long before I even broached the most shallow realms of wakefulness.

I spent a few hours in peace, at any rate.  I don't usually remember the specifics of what I dreamt, but I know that, on this occasion, I managed to kill Darien at least a dozen times before I actually awoke.  It's a pity, really, that I didn't have more time!  I wish I'd been able to have dreams like that every night…though that would probably have made me even more unbalanced than I already was…

Eventually, however, even I must have sensed that my surroundings had become _too _peaceful.  Living, as I did, with such a large family, complete solitude sometimes frightens me—it's always in the quiet times that my brothers cause the most mischief, and its always quiet right before I get yelled at for something.

I came to, groggy and blinking heavily.  The library was completely dark, and even the emergency lights were not functioning.  I'm also a terrible judge of the passing of time, but even I knew that I'd slept long past the time when I ought to have gone home.  I glanced at the clock, frowning as I realized that it was nearly dinnertime.  Why hadn't anyone noticed I was here?  My mother must be frantic, by now.

I sighed, picturing the wrinkled face of my librarian.  The woman was pushing eighty at the very least, and her eyes were barely functioning.  She wouldn't have noticed me at all, and everyone else would have been too anxious to get home to care about anyone but themselves.  My mother, however, certainly had noticed my absence, and she probably had the cops looking for me already.  I needed to get home as quickly as possible.

I stood, quickly gathering my things.  The paper, I decided, could be put off until I'd worked things out with my mother.  Due to school policy, there weren't any pay phones I might have used to call her, and the office would have been closed long ago.  I had also, naturally, missed every bus going anywhere at all, and I'd have little choice but to walk the five miles home.  If I were truly lucky, I reasoned, I'd be able to find a phone at one of the houses I passed.

I started to leave the school, first stopping to ensure that the office really had closed.  The hallways were empty, every classroom vacated.  As far as I could tell, even the janitors had gone home.  A few alarm bells trilled in my mind at this, but I chalked my sudden uneasiness down to the creepiness of the empty school and left it at that.  How was I to know we were under a storm warning?  I've lived everywhere, but I'm still a Californian, and I couldn't possibly have realized that the temperatures were going to drop so drastically.  Again, a cold day in L.A. _might _get to sixty.

Looking back, I definitely would have frozen to death, on the way home—no matter what I thought before I left.  This was in December, mind you, though we hadn't had snow for quite some time.  I deemed myself perfectly fit to walk home, and, though I knew this would take forever, I also didn't think I had a choice.  Without a phone or a car, I didn't have any way of arranging for someone to come and get me.  For now, I was stuck.

I set off at a brisk pace, hating the biting cold of the wind.  Still, I shrugged this off, as well, simply choosing to pull my feather-down coat more tightly around my shoulders.  I was almost warm in that coat, bundled to the chin and with a hood pulled over my head.  For once, my small height stood me well, and the coat came almost to my knees.

Once again, however, I'm originally from California.  What did I know, then anyway, of cold weather?  My idea of winter had always been a little rain or wind.  Even in Utah, or any of the other places I'd lived, the snow had never been that serious.  Ohio, of course, has always been a different place than the rest.  Remember those old cartoons, the ones where the characters fall into ten-foot high snowdrifts?  Having lived in Ohio for so many years, I can now say that I've actually done that.  Still, I hadn't yet gained those…experiences, and I didn't know what I'd set myself out for.

I began walking, my ignorance firmly intact.  The temperatures, I noticed, had already dropped considerably, but I hadn't yet learned enough to reevaluate my ability to make it home in one piece.  Had I known then what I learned only after years of life in this miserable state, I would never have bothered to leave at all.  

I was able to go a whole whopping half a mile before turning back.  I'd started shivering within seconds, but I was stubborn enough to continue.  I waited until I started shaking so badly that I could no longer walk, and then turned and hotfooted it back to the school building, cursing Darien all the way.  

I was trapped.  The school was completely isolated, without even a single house for the next three miles.  Most of the doors to the classrooms were locked, and only the cafeteria and the library were open.  I snuck back into the building, grateful that the school hadn't yet adopted the idea of locking the doors at night.  Living in a town as isolated as ours did have one advantage, I suppose.

Even I, one raised in a state where the temperature never dropped even close to this, knew that, since the cafeteria walls were entirely—and stupidly—made of glass, I would freeze if I waited inside.  I retreated, instead, back to the library, where I huddled in a corner, my coat pulled as tightly as possible around me.  I don't think I'd ever been so cold in my entire life.  My fingers were blue, my teeth chattering so much that I wouldn't have been surprised to chip a tooth, and I'd long since lost all feeling in my legs.  I was honestly starting to wonder if I was going to make it out of this.  

My mind was getting pretty fuzzy, by this point.  Cold does that to you, I hear.  I couldn't think straight at all, and I was having a truly hard time just remembering who I was and what I was doing here.  How could I have been stupid enough to get trapped in a school at night?  What was this, some incredibly bad novel?  Of course, by this time, there wasn't much I could do besides sit around and wait for my knight in shining armor to come and rescue me.  I certainly wasn't getting home any other way.  If it was this cold inside, what must it be like _out_side?  I didn't have a chance in heck of making it home, in this weather.   

I was, of course, mostly worried for my mother.  Control freak that she was, she'd probably started having panicking several hours ago.  I wondered—absently, by this time, as I was too frozen to think straight—if she'd called the cops yet.  Maybe, I reasoned, they'd have enough sense to check out the high school before I became Ohio's first human Popsicle.  

I fell asleep at some point—or maybe I just passed out altogether.  As I already said, my mind wasn't exactly clear at that point, and I still don't know how much time passed before the library doors creaked open and a familiar, dark head poked its way in.

I was told, much later and after I'd warmed up enough to come to my senses, that I didn't even recognize Darien when he came up to me.  I was so frozen that I probably wouldn't have recognized my own mother, but, again, I was too far gone to care.  I only remember that someone was there with me, wrapping me in the ugliest blanket I'd ever seen.   

Ugliness notwithstanding, I immediately felt warmer, but I was still too out of it to care that Darien had scooped me up and carried me out to his car.  A blast of cold air hit us as we left the building, and I think I whimpered and tried to curl myself into Darien's chest.  His arms tightened around me—I remember that much, at least, mostly because his arms were too tight—and his pace quickened.  He practically ran the entire way to the car, throwing the door open and slipping me inside.  

At least I was warm.  He'd kept the engine on while he was inside fetching me, and the heat was going full blast.  He settled me into the front seat with so much care that I started wondering if I was supposed to break or something and had just forgotten to do it, and then darted around to the driver's side and climbed in.  The engine roared to life, and then we were off.  

Darien never said a word, the entire way to my house, and I couldn't focus on him long enough to read his expression or say anything myself.  I kept staring at that hideous blanket, wondering how anyone could possibly allow themselves to own something that looked like a cross between a Spartan quilt and vomit.  Finally, though, I mustered enough strength to speak.  

I turned to Darien, only to find him already looking at me, expression still unreadable.  "Your mom has really bad taste," I told him calmly.  Then, pulling the blanket closer around me, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.


	5. DiddlySquat

A.N.:  Finally, I updated!  Even I was starting to wonder if I ever would, and I apologize for the wait.  I've been trying to finish my signature fic, and I didn't even try to work on this one until recently.  Sorry, guys.  

I've also broken down and started to write individual responses.  They're at the bottom, so don't forget to look for your names!  

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RECAP FOR PREVIOUS CHAPTER:  Thanks in part to a prank gone awry, Serena got herself stranded at the school in freezing weather.  Darien rescued her before she could kick the bucket, but now she has to deal with the emotional complications of owing her life to him.  

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CHAPTER FIVE: Diddly-Squat

Okay, so I can't remember diddly-squat from the moment I passed out in Darien's car to the moment when, nearly two full days later, I woke up in my own bed.  I wasn't hurt by my experience, but my unwilling attempt to kick the bucket had drained me pretty badly, and I was fairly out of it for a good week.  Even now, years later, I look back on this and wonder if, just maybe, I'd actually frozen more of my brain cells than was good for me.  I've certainly done a lot of stupid things since then that could only be explained by my having brain damage.  I have, in fact, only three really clear memories of this time: my stupid attempt to walk home in freezing weather, that _hideous _blanket, and the expression that had been on Darien's face when he first found me.

I'd be perfectly happy to forget all of it, but somehow the knowledge that _Darien_, of all people, had been the one to rescue me just didn't surprise me in the least.  Darien may have hated me to the point of distraction or obsession, but he'd always had that weird radar for me built into that thick head of his.  Didn't he always know where to find me, no matter where I'd gone?  I'd once found it creepy that he could locate me this way, but this time he'd literally used his ability to save my life.  If he hadn't come when he had, I probably would have frozen to death.  Oh, someone else might have come along sooner or later, but I think I wouldn't have been alive enough to appreciate the rescue.  Darien really did save me.

This, of course, caused way too many complications.  Darien had saved my life, and I wasn't ready for that kind of debt to _anyone_, let alone to the boy who'd been tormenting me since day one.  Besides, I didn't really want our relationship, such as it was, to change, and it definitely would since I now owed my entire existence to him.  Even ignoring the emotional implications of this whole mess, I didn't want to lose 'what we had'.  Darien had done some truly awful things to me, and he often made me so mad that I wanted to cry in sheer rage and frustration—not that I ever _did _cry—but our arguments and our pranks added so much excitement to my life that I was honestly afraid of what this would do to us.  I'd found, to my extreme astonishment and my even more extreme chagrin, that I actually _liked _fighting with Darien.  He was quick enough mentally to keep up with me, immature enough emotionally to fight with me in the first place…there just wasn't anybody else that I could act this way with.  I didn't want his saving my life to make either one of us more inclined to stop with the pranks or the fighting, because then I'd lose the best sparring partner I would ever have.    

Like I said, brain damage.    

The temperature had been dropping since the night of my rescue, and the cold became so bad that school was cancelled for the entire week.  I spent the time lying in bed, brooding more over Darien's actions than over my own near death.  I kept telling myself that I was making too much of this, that all Darien had done, really, was to find me and bring me home.  He hadn't fought off any dragons for me or rescued me from burning buildings or anything like that, and I shouldn't be reacting this way.  

It's probably a good thing that I never did learn to listen to myself, because even I can look back and realize how much in denial I was.  I think that even then I knew, deep down, that I wasn't getting freaked out just because I now owed Darien my life.  I wasn't even panicking because his actions meant that our entire relationship must inevitably change, or because I thought he might start to pity me rather than just pickingon me as he had always done before.  I was—and it took me an entire week of moping to realize this—panicking only because, when I'd looked up and met Darien's gaze as he'd entered the library, I'd seen _fear _in his eyes.  Fear for me, fear that something might have happened to me.  Just…fear.  I just couldn't understand why Darien had been _afraid _for _me_, the one person in his life who never cut him any slack, the one person that made him more miserable than all others combined.  Even in my half-frozen, fuzzy-brained state, I had seen that Darien had been afraid that I would die, that he would lose me.  _Why?_

Now, I know Darien was a basically decent guy.  He might have been an absolute jerk, but he'd also never done anything truly destructive.  I'd played some nasty tricks of my own, but regardless of how awful I was, Darien had never lifted a hand against me.  Sure, he yelled at me _all _the time, he stole my things, and he'd practically become my stalker, but he'd never _ever _become violent or caused me lasting harm.  I really couldn't imagine him hurting anyone, and I know he would never even have wished true pain on me, let alone carried it out himself.  He certainly wouldn't have wanted me to die, alone and frozen or any other way.  He would have done all he could to save me if I was really in trouble, even risking his own life, because that was just the way he was.  Still, even knowing that Darien would have done everything in his power to save me, why would he have looked like his best friend—and not his worst enemy—had been the one to disappear?  _He should not have cared this much._  The fact that he clearly did worried me more than the prospect of dying at fourteen ever could have.  

The girls came to see me the Sunday before school started again.  Their visit cheered me up immeasurably, but even they could not pull my mind from Darien.  The fact that Mina and Raye lived with him and knew everything—or almost everything, at any rate—really didn't help.  Darien's sisters kept shooting smug, knowing glances at me every time they thought I wasn't looking.  I knew what they were thinking—how could I not?  I'm a genius, remember, and they had always been terribly obvious matchmakers.  Besides, Mina and Raye aren't exactly hard to read, and I knew them well enough to recognize every little thought running through their meddling heads.

Hey, I realize how this situation looked, but I was _not _falling for Darien!  I don't care how thin the line between love and hate is, there's no way in heck that I was going to cross it!  Mina and Raye were just so eager to pair Darien off with someone they liked that they were seeing things that just weren't there, and I resolved to let them know how misguided they were as soon as possible…just not that day…or the next…or maybe even a whole lot of nexts after that.  This wasn't a conversation I was all that eager to have, and I knew I would probably find plenty of reasons to put it off for a little longer.

I needn't have worried about Darien's behavior towards me, though.  I went back to school the next day, and everything was the same as it had always been.  Maybe Darien looked a little harder and more intensely at me, the first time we ran into each other in the hallways, but that was pretty much it.  He didn't ask me if I was okay, and he didn't treat me any differently than before.  He probably knew that I'd have resented his questions in spite of everything he'd done for me--or maybe because of what he'd done--and I'd always hated having people treat me like china just because I was so small physically.  The fact that Darien had every reason to be worried about me, the fact that I'd actually been in danger and was technically still recovering, had absolutely nothing to do with it, and just that once, I was actually grateful to Darien for knowing me well enough to be aware of that.  

He didn't do anything to me right away, though.  Usually, when I passed him in the halls like that, he'd at least call out some kind of snide remark.  He'd tell me I'd obviously been a midget in a past life or that my hair looked like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket or something equally sweet.  He might return whatever it was he'd stolen from me the day before, or dart up to me and try to knock my bag away so he could tease me about my clumsiness.  This time, he didn't do any of that.  He smirked at me a little as I walked by, but even his smirk was more hail-fellow-well-met than anything else.  Needless to say, I found that to be immeasurably creepy.  Another might believe he was only being gentle with me, trying to give me time to ease back into our way of life, but I knew better.  

Darien was planning something.

I was right, of course.  Darien _was _planning something, though not even Lita believed me when I told her about my suspicions.  She just gave me an odd look, like I was crazy for thinking that badly about Darien.  Personally, I think _she_ was crazy for not believing me.  I knew Darien as well as anybody, maybe better than anybody, and as the most frequent object of his wrath, I knew the signs when I saw them.  Darien was up to no good, as they say, and I was on my guard.  

Of course, knowing that he was going to do something didn't help in the least.  Darien was becoming almost as good as I at this, and I never saw his next prank coming.  Maybe it was just because he waited until the very last minute before springing his trap, until the day was almost over and I was finally getting ready to go home.  I probably should have been a wreck at that point, knowing Darien was going to pull something but still not able to so much as guess at what it was.  I wasn't, though.  I'd actually started to buy into what everyone else was saying, started to believe that Darien was going to go easy on me, for once.  I'd started to relax, and that was my first mistake.  

Darien is a sneaky son-of-a-gun.  I've always believed that, even from day one, but it wasn't until this particular trick that he really proved it.  Like I said, he'd waited until the very last minute to spring this one on me, and that would have been bad enough.  When he used his sisters and my trust in them against me, though, he took the game to a whole new level.  He even pulled his mother into the deal, the jerk.  

Remember when I mentioned that Darien's mother owned a sort of diner?  Well, Raye and Mina had started taking me there in the weeks leading up to all of this, wanting to give me a chance to get to know her.  In retrospect, I think maybe they'd started their matchmaking thing even earlier than I'd thought, and this was their way of getting me even more deeply involved in their family than I might already have been.  Maybe they thought that if I formed strong relationships with the women in Darien's family, I'd be more likely to overlook Darien's own shortcomings.  

Fat chance of _that_.

Whatever the reason for their bringing me, I'd really started to love that place.  The food was good, the prices were reasonable, and Anne Shields turned out to be marvelous company.  She was a sweet woman, as intelligent as her dratted son and as lively as her daughters, and I soon realized how much I enjoyed talking to her.  She might have been years older than I, but she was a great friend to me…at least as long as I didn't bring up Darien or all the nonsense he and I pulled on each other.  As with the twins, it was just easier not to get into any of that with someone who would feel obligated to defend him regardless of the circumstances, and since I wasn't capable of bringing up his name in anything other than a complaint, mention of Darien was always noticeably absent from any conversation his mother and I had.

Anyway, I'd gotten completely hooked on the desserts Anne's place offered.  She had everything a girl with an unbelievably strong sweet-tooth could ever want: brownies, cakes, ice creams, shakes—it's probably a good thing that I have a high metabolism and never put on weight, because I'd probably weigh about a thousand pounds, otherwise.  My favorite snacks, though, were the caramel apples.  Seriously, what more could a person want in a treat?  They were messy, sweet, and chewy enough to make my teeth stick together.  Plus, since there were supposedly real apples buried somewhere beneath all that sugar, I didn't ever have to tell my mom that I'd spoiled my appetite with something completely unhealthy for me.

And Darien ruined them for me.  He'd known perfectly well how much I loved those things, and he recognized the potential in them.  He went to his mother, told her that he needed to do an extra credit project or something like that.  He had her make a batch of caramel apples, this time using his 'special' recipe…a recipe that somehow called for _wax _and a whole lot of other things that I still can't identify.  You'd think Mrs. Shields would have realized Darien was pulling some sort of trick, but she didn't.  She just went along with him, mixing colorless lumps of wax…and all that other stuff…into the caramel in small enough amounts that it wouldn't be immediately noticeable to her son's young victim.  Then, heaping insult on injury, Darien left the apples where his sisters would be certain to find them.  Both of his sisters absolutely hated caramel apples, and they wouldn't have eaten one if their lives depended on it.  They would also, however, immediately think of me when they saw them.  They knew how much I liked them, and they knew I was still getting over my little try-to-turn-myself-into-a-Popsicle thing.  They swiped the apples for me, that day, keeping them in a cooler in Mina's locker until they could give them to me in private.  They waited until the last class of my first day back, skipping out of their own rooms so they could bring them to me…and I, all unsuspecting, dug right in.        

Sneaky, Darien.  Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.

I didn't get sick right away.  I probably scarfed down a good half dozen apples, but they took quite some time to work their way through my system.  I don't know what they did to me—I probably don't _want _to know—but before my class was even close to ending, I was ready to hurl.  By all reports, my face went completely white within just a few minutes of my returning to class, but even that wasn't enough warning.  I'd immediately figured out something of what had happened, of course, and I was determined not to let Darien win.  I wanted to fight my nausea, keep going just to spite him.  I didn't make it, of course.  The teacher soon noticed that I wasn't looking all that great, and he came over to me, asking me if I was feeling all right.  I just nodded to him, not wanting him to send me to the nurse's office.  He didn't look too convinced, though, and I probably didn't help my case when, just a second before he could get out of range, I keeled over and lost my lunch all over his brand-new, shiny loafers.  The teacher, seeing what I had done, immediately started screeching like a little girl, and this made the entire class bust up with laughter.  Even I was grinning a little at that, though I still felt too sick to really see the humor of the situation.  I just excused myself, going rather meekly towards the nurse's station before the teacher could order me to go anyway.

I spent the remainder of that class with the nurse, avoiding her questions.  I knew perfectly well that whatever was wrong with me probably wasn't serious, and I knew she couldn't do anything anyway.  The churning of my stomach would go away on its own, I reasoned, because I still didn't think Darien would do anything permanent to me.  Besides, I was too busy plotting my revenge to even think about ratting on him to the nurse.  I had bigger issues on my mind right then, like trying to decide how I was going to get him back.  My mom was watching me a little too closely right now, and I'd lost some of the freedom I'd had before I stranded myself at the school in freezing weather.  I didn't see how I was going to get at Darien without her finding out and stopping me, but I also wasn't about to let this slide.  Darien had it coming, after this, because nothing in the world could erase the memory of what I'd done over my poor teacher's shoes.  Still, what could I do that would make him as embarrassed as I now was?

And then it hit me—the perfect idea.  Something that would make Darien embarrassed without involving anyone else, something that he would never, ever forget: ethanol blue.  It was something my cousin had told me about, back before she'd even finished college.  Her boyfriend of nearly six months had taken her out one Valentine's Day, given her the most romantic evening she'd ever had.  She'd been on cloud nine by the end of it, thinking that she'd finally found the one decent man on the planet, thinking that she just might be falling in love.  Then, just as she had decided things couldn't be more perfect, the clod had leaned over, kissed her, and told her he was dumping her for her roommate.  Now, my cousin was heartbroken, at first, but she'd also a lot like me, and she wasn't going to take that sitting down.  She waited a few days, gave herself time to regain control of her emotions, and then went after him.  She baked his favorite dessert—these little mint brownie thingies—and put ethanol blue in the frosting.  She'd somehow talked him into eating them...and sat back and waited for them to take effect.  

I still don't really know what the stuff is, but my cousin assured me that the chemical is pretty much harmless, and I was still too mad at Darien to really care even if she ended up being wrong.  All it'll do, really—and I realize this is fairly disgusting, but so was what Darien had made me do to that poor teacher—is make urine turn blue.  Nobody except Darien and I would ever know about it, but he'd still be incredibly embarrassed.  I mean, who wouldn't be, in that situation?  His embarrassment would only increase because he'd know _I_ was responsible, for another thing, and he'd know that _I _knew what was happening to him.  That was enough for me, because all I cared about was getting back at him.  I didn't have to embarrass him in front of other people, so it didn't matter that he'd never tell a soul about what I'd done.  In fact, aware as I was of the immaturity in what I was doing, I'd actually _prefer_ it if he didn't ever tell anyone anything.  

I'm not a stupid person.  I was aware that Darien would never fall for the same tricks that I had, but I also knew the git would never take _anything_ I offered him, especially when he was probably expecting me to try something in return for what he'd done.  How was I going to pull this off, then?  The dye my cousin so sweetly—okay, _gleefully_—provided for me had to be consumed to work, and I wasn't even going to bother trying to spike his food or drinks.  As often and as hard as Darien watched me, he'd know if I tried something like that.  I had only one choice, really, and that was to involve the two people Darien trusted most in the entire world: Mina and Raye.  He'd used my friendship with his sisters to trick me, and it only made sense that I could reach him the same way.  So I went to the twins, telling them everything.  They started grinning even before I finished explaining what I wanted to do, immediately agreeing with my hasty, overly immature plan.  They were a little irritated at Darien, I think, for using them to get at me like that, but their greatest motivation was probably nothing more than their love of messing with people's minds.  Not that I was going to complain, of course, whatever the reason.  Mina and Raye were the key to my little scheme, and I needed them.

I waited a few days before starting.  Half of me wanted Darien to get comfortable, to think that maybe I hadn't realized who was at fault for my earlier illness and so didn't know enough to target him as he'd targeted me.  The other half, like the twins, just enjoyed messing with him.  Vindictive as I was when Darien was involved, there was something unbelievably satisfying in making him furious.  Maybe it was just because I'd get so tired of having Darien mad at me, whether I'd done something wrong or not, that I took a perverse sort of pleasure in giving him an actual reason to hate me.  In any case, I waited until Darien had left the house a day or two after my unfortunate interaction with my teacher's shoes, then slipped over to the twins'.  We quickly made the brownies—and, as an added bonus, I learned that brownies were also Darien's favorite treat—mixing in the ethanol blue.  Then, after covering them with plastic wrap, we forged a short note to make Darien think the brownies had come from his next door neighbor.  We left the poisoned treats on the kitchen counter and snuck back upstairs to wait, trying very hard but completely without success not to laugh.

The twins and I had slipped upstairs to their bedroom, once we'd set everything out, because we hadn't wanted Darien to see me and get suspicious or anything.  We should have realized that he'd guess the truth just as quickly as I'd figured out who was responsible for the caramel apple fiasco, but maybe we were too into the mischief to think ahead, because none of us ever predicted how badly Darien would react.  He came home earlier than we'd expected, so we didn't have to wait long to see the results of our actions.  We heard his car pull into the driveway, heard the front door slam.  Darien moved around downstairs for a while—we hoped he was eating the brownies—and then the television came on.  The girls and I sighed, exchanged impatient glances, and sat down to what we now realized would be a long wait.  I didn't know how long we'd have to sit until the ethanol blue kicked in, for one thing, but even if it started working immediately, we'd still have to sit around and twiddle our thumbs until Darien actually went to the bathroom.  I'd considered just going home and forgetting about it as the minutes continued to drift by without giving me anything in return for my efforts, but then I decided that I wouldn't be able to hear or see Darien's reaction if I did.  Frankly, that would defeat the whole purpose for me, so I stayed.        

Hindsight is an awful thing.  Looking back after all these years, I can honestly say that I wish we hadn't done this to Darien.  Maybe it's just because he's a guy and guys tend to take this kind of thing personally, but something about this prank ticked him off more than anything else I'd ever done to him.  Even the time I'd packed the glove compartment of his car with shaving cream…or the time I'd pelted him with balloons filled with maple syrup rather than water…or the lemonade incident, come to that, hadn't been this bad.  I still don't quite understand why Darien blew up so badly, especially since both of us had done much worse to each other in the past, but blow up he did.

Think Chenoble, or maybe Hiroshima and Nagasaki.      

We heard him yelp all the way through the floor.  I don't think I've ever heard such a sound coming from a human being.  There was shock in his cries, of course, but there was something more like fury in there, and I suddenly found myself wishing I was anywhere else.  I actually glanced at the window, wondering if I could survive a drop from a second story.  It'd be better, I thought as I listened to Darien's footsteps pounding up the stairs, to risk breaking my neck than to face Darien, because—let's face it, I should have thought of this sooner—he was going to kill me.

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**READER RESPONSES (I'll be doing this for every chapter from now on, so they won't always take up so much space):  **

**Lilli-lil****:  **I really appreciate the compliments.  Thanks for reading!

**Lilli-lil****:  **Wow…that's a whole lot of pleases.  How can I deny you, after that?  I'll try to work on this story more often, just for you.  Thanks again!

**Crystalgurl****:  **I'm glad you liked it so much, and I'm overjoyed that you took the time to read.  Thank you!

**Crystalgurl****:  **Once again, thank you for reading.  I'm glad you find this to be worthwhile, and I appreciate the input.  

"You also manage to include part of Darien's thoughts without actually using any of his pov."  

You're pretty insightful yourself, did you know that?  I'm so glad you picked up on that.  You're an angel!

**Schoolgirltil2005:  **Cute name, incidentally.  It's probably one of the most original names I've ever come across.  

I'm glad you liked this, and I hope you continue reading.  Thanks for the review!

**Schoolgirltil2005:  **Once again, thanks for reading!  I appreciate it more than you can know!

**Schoolgirltil2005:  **Thank you again for taking the time to read this.  You're reviews are great motivators.  

**Anonymous:  **'Spectacular,' huh?  Well, thanks!  Your compliments mean more to me than you know.  Keep reviewing!

**Anonymous:  **So, I'm funny, too, am I?  Shucks, that's so sweet!  With compliments like this, I'll _definitely _keep writing!  

**Anonymous:  **Once again, thanks for the compliments!  And thanks for reading.  It means a lot to me that you like what I've written.

**Sassy_Chan****:  **Once again, Sass, I thank you for the input.  You're an amazing friend, and I'm always overjoyed to hear from you…especially when you tell me that I have style and insight!

**Sassy_Chan****:  **Different but good, huh?  And you're 'drooling' over this?  Well, thanks a million!  I knew I liked you for a reason.  

**Sassy_Chan****:  **No, Sass, I hadn't forgotten this story.  I've just been focusing more on some of the other ones, RM for example.  This story isn't as well known, so I figured I could leave it for a bit.  It's great to know I was wrong, though.  

**"**It's great to know that Serena isn't as mean as Darien, and it's even better to know that Darien is really Serena's knight in shining armor, even if she doesn't know it yet. I'm glad he was the one to rescue her."  

I loved how you put that, Sass.  Yes, it is nice that Serena isn't as mean as Darien, though she possibly will be in the future.  And yes, Darien _is _her knight in shining armor.  I'm so glad you can see him that way!

As always, thanks for reading.  I promise not to let so much time go by between chapters, and I'm overjoyed that you liked this.****

**WT Review:  **Well, obviously I don't know who you are, but I thought I'd respond anyway.  I appreciate the input, and I'm grateful that you bothered to read this.  Thanks a ton!  

**Ladedah****:  **Now, that's gotta be one of the best names I've ever heard.  Very clever, and very funny!  And thanks for the compliments.  I look forward to hearing more from you (hint, hint!).

**Princess Niobe:  **_You're_ jealous of _me_?  If anything, it's the other way around!  You're an amazing writer yourself, and I always look forward to hearing from you.  Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  

**Princess Niobe:  **You have a brother like that, too, huh?  I don't know whether that's a good thing or not, because while they're sure a lot of fun, they can also make people miserable.  Well, at least you can sympathize with the characters, right?  So, you throw things, too?  I actually took that incident out of my own life, because that really did happen to me.  It's good to know that I'm not the only one who likes to throw things!  

Anyway, thanks for reading, once again!  You're incredibly sweet to take the time, and I appreciate it!

**Alexiel****:  **Well, I realize that most of the characters are a little OOC…okay, a LOT OOC, but that's just the way they came out.  I'm glad that you still like them, though, and I hope you continue reading.  Just so you know, I won't be putting this into Darien's POV at all.  My intention was just to let a few of his thoughts slip through Serena and the other characters.  I hope that doesn't put you off any, because your input means quite a bit to me.

**Alexiel****:  **Thanks for the compliments, and thanks for reading.  I'm glad you're amused by what I've written.  Of course, I'm still not going to give away the ending!  You'll just have to wait to find out, though I'm glad that you've picked up on the foreshadowing.  

**S.L. Butterworth:  **Different is a good thing, I hope?  Well, in any case, I'm glad you're taking the time to read and review.  I appreciate it!

**S.L. Butterworth:  **Once again, thanks for reading.  You're an inspiration to me, and I'm' overjoyed that you like this.  And of _course _I reviewed your stuff!  It was fantastic, and definitely worth my time.  You're pretty fantastic, you know!

**Koosei****:  **Well, I'm glad you're enjoying this.  It means a lot to me, coming from you.  You always manage to inspire me, and I'm overjoyed that you bothered to read my story.  Thank you!

**oO****-Innocent**** Dreamer-Oo:  **Sorry that I tend to keep you waiting for updates, but I'm glad you're bothering to read in spite of me.  Thank you!

**oO****-Innocent**** Dreamer-Oo:  **Once again, thanks for reading.  I appreciate the compliments!

**DragonKeeper189:  **Hey, don't feel bad.  I don't log in half the time, either.  Besides, I'm too glad that you bothered to read this to complain about anything!  Thank you for taking the time to read and review, and I'll try to update more often.  

**A. Lee:  **Wow, now THAT is a compliment!  I appreciate the fact that you took the time to review, and I'm overjoyed that you liked this.  Yes, the narrator is Serena, even if she is kind of out of character.  And with input like this, I'll definitely continue!

**Livvrose****:  **Yes, obviously I'm continuing this story.  I just don't update that often, because I tend to work on my other stories more.  For you, though, I'll definitely try to post more than once a year!  And this definitely counts as a 'real review'!  Thanks for reading!

**Roswellwbfan****:  **You know, it occurs to me that I've been spelling your name wrong for a very long time.  Have you always had that 'w' in there?  I apologize from the bottom of my heart for being so oblivious!  You're an angel for not getting mad at me or yelling at me for it.  Just about anybody else would have!  

Well, I'm glad you're liking this story.  A 'thumbs up' review from someone of your talent means more to me than just about anything else anybody has ever said to me, and I appreciate the time you take to review.  You're an inspiration to me, and I'm more grateful to you than you can ever know.   

**Akiness****:  **Thanks for the compliment, and thanks for reading!  You're a sweetheart!

**Very Nice:  **Yes, the characters are a little OOC, but I couldn't help myself.  Thanks for reading in spite of that.  I appreciate it!  

**Kismet*:  **Well, thanks for being impressed!  The compliment certainly inspires me to write more, and I appreciate the time you took to read and review.  

**Lindy****:  **Thanks for reading!  I appreciate the compliment.

**Tamashii**** Hime:  **You're a sweetheart for reading, and thanks for the compliment!

**Angelblood****:  **Thanks for the compliment, and thanks for reading!

**Megan:  **Thank _you _for reviewing!  I really appreciate it.

**Rachel:  **Thanks for the reading.  I love hearing from you.

**Rachel:  **Once again, thanks for the reviews!  You're appreciated more than you can know!

**Javudith****:  **Well, thanks for reading and reviewing.  I'm glad you thought this was 'friken hilarious'.  You're comments are definitely appreciated!

**Denial:  **Yeah, Serena does seem to hate the guy, doesn't she?  At least she's staying true to the character I've given her.  And, yes, I'll definitely continue writing.  You're 'guilting' me will only motivate me more!  I appreciate the compliments!

**Samsonite****:  **Thanks for reading, and thanks for the vote of approval!

**Iciee****:  **Thanks for the compliments!  Maybe I should put the story in the humor category, especially since I think it's in action/adventure right now, and it definitely isn't that!  Well, whatever.  I appreciate the input, though I'll have to let people know that Darien saved Serena.  I don't think I could hide something like that.  

**Sailor Spectra:  **Yes, I'm glad that I finally got out another chapter, too.  Thinking about this story and about the length between updates always makes me feel guilty.  It's nice not to have that bugging me.  Thanks for reading!

**Kim:  **You probably did read this story before.  I actually had another version of it up, but it needed work, so I took it down and started over.  The first story also had a lot of things that had really happened to me when I was in high school, but I took most of that out and put in a lot of different things instead.  Yes, this means that this version is going to be longer, because I actually get to play with it a little, this time.  

Anyway, sorry if I confused you, but thanks for reading!  I appreciate that you'd come back for a second round.  Thanks!  


	6. Steadiness

**A.N.:** Well, here's the next chapter. I know I've been promising to post for the past three weeks, but stuff kept happening and I wasn't able to get to it. I'm sorry it took so long, though I admit it was somewhat…flattering to have so many people threatening me just to get updates. I'll try to do a little better with the next one.

Hey, don't forget to look for the reader responses at the bottom of the chapter!

**BRIEF RECAP: **Um, it's been a while, so here's a quick reminder of what happened last time: To make a long story short, Darien put something in Serena's caramel apples to make her sick, and she retaliated by putting a chemical in his brownies to make…well, it was kind of sick in itself, so if you want to know what it did to him, you'll have to read the last chapter. I'm not going into it again.

**This chapter: **Serena faces the consequences of her actions.

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"Wishful Thinking"

CHAPTER SIX: Steadiness

As I've mentioned before, nothing in my life was very steady. I'd spent all fourteen of my years bouncing from place to place, being dragged from one city or state to another. I never had the same friends or even the same relatives around me—besides my immediately family, of course—and the friends that I managed to stay in touch with once I'd left would inevitably grow up and then apart. For me, friendships usually didn't last for more than a few months at the most, and I _hated _that. Even the twins and Levi and Lita were constantly changing, learning new things and finding new hobbies and making new friends that I had nothing in common with or simply didn't like. And that was fine, because I'm not so possessive that I would have wanted their entire worlds to stay focused on me. I wanted them to have their own lives, even if it didn't always include me.

People _have _to change. I get it, really I do. It's a necessary part of life, and I can admit that I wasn't the same person at fourteen as I'd been at ten or twelve or even thirteen. I wouldn't have wanted to be, and I probably wouldn't have wanted my friends to be, either, but it didn't make any difference. I still hated change. I hated having people leave me. Just because I'm highly adaptable doesn't mean I don't want stability as much as the next girl. Isn't it ironic, though, that _Darien_was the one to provide that stability, at least in some twisted way? Darien was the only person that I could count on to be the same from one day to the next. He was always there, even if it was only to pick on me and berate me, but I'd never really thought about it until after it was too late for me to keep him that way.

I altered something between us, that day with the brownies and the chemical I fed my archenemy. I'd expected him to be mad at me, of course, but I'd never expected him to be hurt, as well, and he definitely was. He'd immediately charged upstairs to his sisters' room once he'd realized what was happening to him, somehow knowing I was there just as he always knew exactly where I was. He threw the door open, and it slammed against the wall and left a dent, but the three of us were too busy staring almost fearfully into Darien's eyes to care. Even Mina and Raye were gaping at their brother, not as frightened as I suddenly was but still a little more apprehensive than they'd ever been around their deeply beloved sibling.

I had reason to be frightened, though I continued to believe that Darien would never willfully hurt me. There was just something terrible in his eyes as he stood there, his hands balled into fists at his side, his teeth clenched and his eyes riveted to mine. He didn't even glance at his sisters, instead staring hard at me. I shrank from him, hating the way he was searching my face for…well, for something. I didn't know what he was looking for, and I didn't know if he'd found it or not, because without throwing out a single word of incrimination, he suddenly turned and left the room. He didn't even close the door behind him, and his pace down the stairs was a little too slow and steady after all that fury. Another door slammed a minute later, and we heard his car driving quickly away.

I didn't stick around long, after he'd gone away. His reaction had taken all the fun out of what we'd been doing, and the twins and I couldn't quite meet each other's gazes. I think we were all a little ashamed of what we'd done, even if none of us really had any idea of why Darien had reacted that way. We'd known he'd be angry, but Darien usually yelled when he got mad, and it was terribly unnerving that he hadn't said a thing.

I'd been a little apprehensive myself, about facing Darien at school after what I'd done, but I didn't see him at all the next day, and that was infinitely worse. He didn't show up for our morning art class, and he wasn't there for lunch, either. His sisters admitted that they had absolutely no idea where he'd gone, since he hadn't come home after he'd stormed out. His mother hadn't noticed, fortunately, as she'd been working pretty late the night before and consequently slept in the next morning, but the twins and I were getting worried. Where could he have gone? Darien was a big man, well over six feet tall and very strong, so we probably wouldn't have been concerned for his safety at all if the weather hadn't been so bad. It was always snowing at this time of year, and the roads were nothing short of awful. We were afraid that Darien might have gotten into an accident or something after he'd left. He could have been seriously hurt, and we had no way of knowing.

Naturally, I blamed myself for this disaster. It _had_ been myidea to feed him the dye, and even though I'd been provoked, I still felt awful. What if I'd driven Darien to do something stupid or dangerous? For all his supposed maturity, he wasn't above being reckless, and I admit that I was getting concerned. Okay, so I was more than just _concerned_. I was starting to panic. Darien wasn't my friend, but no matter how twisted the relationship between us was, I still cared enough about him not to want him to get hurt. I didn't want anything to happen to him, especially not if it was my fault. I wasn't prepared to deal with that kind of burden.

Darien never came to school that day. I don't know how he managed it, since we went to a school so strict that it was next to impossible to skip class and not get in trouble. Sure, the twins and I sometimes succeeded in cutting out of a few classes before we should have, but even we couldn't have gone an entire day without making an appearance. I didn't know whether I should be more worried or impressed that Darien had succeeded in doing so, but the worry soon overcame the admiration, and I eventually wound my way down to the admissions office. I had a few friends who worked there, and I whined and nagged them into checking to see if Darien had called in sick or something. He hadn't, and that only made the worry grow. _Somebody_ at that school had to have known where Darien was, or the principal would have called his mother, and assuming _she _didn't know anything, she would immediately have come to the twins to see if _they _did. Mina and Raye, of course, would have told me if something like that had happened, so it was obvious that Darien's mother thought he was safely at school with the rest of us.

Darien usually gave the girls a ride to and from school, and we were all hoping he'd come and pick them up that afternoon, ease our worries for him. He didn't, of course, so the three of us took the bus leading to their home, now only half-hoping that we'd luck out and he'd be there. The bus stopped about a block away from the house, but even from there we could see that Darien's car wasn't in the driveway. The girls and I exchanged worried glances, and we all but ran the rest of the way, threw ourselves into the building and started calling his name. We knew he wasn't there, but we searched the house anyway, wondering all the while if we should call Darien's mother or maybe the police. Bringing the police into it still seemed a little extreme, especially since there was a good chance Darien was still angry and had just gone to a friend's house, but we knew something had to be done, so we broke down and dialed the restaurant.

Darien's mother didn't know where he was. She didn't even know that he hadn't been in school. Like I said before, she was surprisingly oblivious for a mother. We were glad of that, for once, because while we were getting more and more concerned about Darien by the minute, we didn't want her to worry, not when we didn't have any proof ourselves. So we lied to her, downplayed the entire thing and somehow convinced her that Darien had just taken off after school and hadn't told his sisters where he was going. Mina, who'd been the one talking to Anne, has always been a surprisingly good liar, and it was easy enough to convince Mrs. Shields that all was right with the world.

Mina hung up, and then we all sat down and considered our options. We still didn't want to make people worry, not when Darien was probably just mad and didn't want to come home and deal with us, but we had to find him, make sure he was all right. I called Lita's house, told her what had happened and then asked to speak to her brother. Ryan was one of Darien's best friends, and even though I didn't like him at all, I still figured he might know more than we did. I spoke to him for a few minutes, trying to keep my fear for Darien hidden but not succeeding even a little bit. Ryan, though, didn't know where Darien could be. He'd noticed Darien's absence from school, but had just assumed he was out sick. It honestly hadn't occurred to him to ask Raye or Mina if Darien was all right, and he admitted that he wouldn't have even if he'd thought of it, because, and I quote, "guys don't ask about other guys. It's just wrong."

Yes, because being concerned about a member of the same sex automatically makes you gay or something. Ri-ight.

_Men. _

I was rolling my eyes by the end of that particular conversation, because no matter how worried I was, that was still the most asinine thing I'd ever heard. I didn't let it bother me, though, and no matter how stupid I now thought Lita's brother was, I stayed on the phone just long enough to give him a much edited version of the previous day's events. I didn't tell Ryan exactly what it was that we'd done, of course, but I asked him to start calling all of Darien's friends, see if anybody knew where he was, and then told him to get in touch with either me or the twins the second he knew anything. He promised, maybe catching a little of the concern that I couldn't keep from my voice, and then hung up.

There wasn't much more we could do. The twins called as many of Darien's friends as they knew, but were unable to discover his whereabouts. Finally, having run out of ideas, I called Heidi. She'd just gotten her driver's license, and we talked her into driving us around to Darien's favorite haunts. We went to all the places Darien usually hung out, and then, when that didn't pan out, we went everywhere else. We didn't find him. As far as I could tell, he'd been abducted by aliens or something.

I was practically in tears at that point, and I was snapping at my friends often enough that they were sort of edging away from me by the time we gave up and went back to Darien's house. My only saving grace was that the twins were as worried as I was, and so were too busy panicking over their brother's disappearance to tease me about how emotional I was becoming. Not that I really cared if they _did _tease me, of course. I was way beyond that, by then. I just wanted Darien to come home so I could stop worrying, and nothing mattered to me but that.

Heidi had decided to wait with us, after our drive around town, but the twins had never been patient, and they soon demanded that she take them on another trip. Maybe, they reasoned, Darien might have gone to one of those places after we'd checked them. It made sense, and it was certainly worth a shot, so the three of them took off again. Somebody had to stay behind and wait for Darien, though, and I volunteered for that. I didn't think I could stand more of the disappointment I'd felt each time we went somewhere but didn't find Darien, and anyway I was pretty close to breaking down. I didn't want my friends to see me crying over that jerk, and going with them wouldn't have been a good idea.

I think Mina might have realized how much I needed to be alone, because she suddenly reached out and caught Levi's sleeve as she went through the door. She dragged him along behind her, ignoring his protests, and forced him into his sister's car. I watched them drive away, and then I turned away from the window. There wasn't really anything for me to do while I waited for some bit of news about Darien, so I simply started walking around the twins' house. I wandered from room to room—and by this time I'd spend enough time here to feel comfortable with that—and eventually wound my way up the stairs. I wasn't really thinking straight, anymore, so I also wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I guess, though, that while I never made any conscious decision to go there, it was almost a natural thing, my ending up outside Darien's room.

I pushed the door slowly aside, staying in the hallway for a minute or two while I gazed across the threshold. Then, with a tiny sigh, I stepped inside and started looking around. It was a neat room—a little too neat, of course, but I'd expected that. Darien wouldn't live anywhere that wasn't as ordered as he was. Still, this was…too much. My own bedroom resembled something more along the lines of a national disaster area, and I guess I couldn't quite understand why anyone would spend so much time keeping a bedroom clean. A bedroom, to me, is just a place to sleep, a place to store the odds and ends that don't really belong anywhere else in the house. It shouldn't be as flawlessly clean as Darien's was, shouldn't look as though it would make the most bleak and sanitary of hospitals seem like a pigsty. As always, Darien had gone overboard, with this place.

On the other hand, I really couldn't fault his sense of style. The furniture in Darien's bedroom was elegant, possibly even expensive. He had a large four-poster bed against one wall, a desk against another. There was even a small bookcase, though it was nothing compared to the library in my own room. I frowned a little as I walked around his room and sifted through his things, impressed in spite of myself. Darien's bedroom looked like something out of _Better Homes and Gardens. _There weren't even any posters on the walls, like most teenagers had. There was nothing, actually, to indicate that Darien was below the age of thirty.

It was unnatural.

I sighed, moving slowly across the room and sitting down on the edge of Darien's bed as my worries and my doubts swamped over me again. I'd let myself be distracted by his things, but it hadn't lasted. I could see too much of Darien in his bedroom—his need for precision, for order, his physical perfection and sheer masculinity. It reminded me too much of why I'd come here at all, and, yes, it reminded me of just how much I was already starting to miss him. I sighed again, tears actually welling up in my eyes. A few of them spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them, but I hastily wiped them away, swinging my legs around until I could lay down on Darien's bed. I lay on my back, my head cushioned on his pillows and one arm flung negligently across my stomach. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply so that I could calm myself. And then, tears still streaming down my cheeks in spite of myself, I did what I always do, when I'm under stress.

I fell asleep.

Naturally, Fate continued to hate me, and my relatively peaceful—and mercifully dreamless—rest was interrupted. I don't know how long I was actually asleep, before the tall, dark-haired man I'd come to loathe came into the room with me. I don't know how long he stood over me, staring down at me, watching me sleep. I'd actually prefer not to know, because that's just too creepy to think about. Darien has some real stalker issues…

He must have called my name at some point, because I remember stirring, mumbling something back at him. I think I told him to go suck an egg, but I'm not really sure. I probably thought he was one of my brothers come to irritate me, and that sounds like something I'd say. In any case, he called my name again, more insistently this time. I frowned, not quite awake yet, and promptly rolled over onto my side and as far from him as I could get. I reached out and grabbed the pillow I'd been using—_his _pillow—flung it over my head so I could block out the sound of his voice. It wasn't enough, though, because I could still hear him. I think _he _was probably getting irritated by then, too, because he finally grabbed me by the shoulder and started to shake me. He wasn't overly gentle about it, either, so I guess he was still mad at me about the dye.

_That _woke me up. My California childhood reared its ugly head, and I thought I was in the middle of an earthquake. My eyes flew open, my arms started flailing in panic, and I instinctively tried to roll to my feet so I could go cower in a doorway like any sane person. Of course, I hadn't counted on the fact that my legs had been twisted at an odd angle as I'd slept, and now _they _were asleep. When I tried to stand, all I really succeeded in doing was falling back down. I missed the bed, though, and instead landed on my backside on the floor beside it.

Graceful I am not.

To his credit, Darien didn't laugh, at least not on the outside. He only walked calmly around the bed, held a hand out to me as I gaped stupidly at him. I took the offered hand, my mind too numbed by a mixture of sleep and relief to think straight, and he helped me to my feet. He pulled me up without any effort at all, and then released my hand as soon as I was steady again. He took just a step back, probably wanting to put some space between us, and then watched me without saying anything. Maybe he was waiting for a reaction from me, or maybe he was just waiting for me to apologize for what I'd done earlier. I don't know, but it didn't really matter what he was expecting, because I'm sure that it wasn't anything like what I actually did.

I gaped at him for a solid minute, so many emotions flitting through me that even I couldn't identify them. I think my mouth was probably open, a little, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Then, while he continued to stare back at me, his own face completely unreadable, something inside me broke. A wall went down, and every bit of concern that I'd felt for this man during the last two days tore through me. I trembled with the unexpected potency of that, my knees turning to jelly as I stared up—_way_ up—into those admittedly gorgeous blue eyes of his.

And then I flung myself at him, wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. "I was so _worried_," I mumbled into his shirt, not really caring that his body had completely frozen the second I'd touched him, not really caring that five minutes from now I'd probably hate myself for acting this way in front of this man who was still my enemy. "Don't _ever _do that to me again."

Whatever he'd been expecting from me, I knew it hadn't been that. Still, after only a second, I felt his body shift next to mine, and then his arms were around me. One arm was pressed against the small of my back, the other along my spine. The fingers of one hand brushed against my hair. He was still very tense, but laughter bubbled up from his chest, erupting in an almost uneasy chuckle. His head bent, his cheek pressing against the top of my head. "No promises, Serena," he whispered gently into my hair, his voice so carefully neutral that I couldn't really tell what he was feeling right then. "Maybe knowing that I might run off again will keep you from playing more tricks on me."

It had been the wrong thing to say. My fears for Darien had made me abandon my anger towards him, but now his words had brought me back to my senses. My concern for him flew out the window, my perpetual irritation with him coming back stronger than ever. I pulled away from him, pushing against his chest with as much violence as I could. He let go of me, though I thought I caught a flare of reluctance in his eyes as he pulled his arms away. I stepped back.

I was the tense one, now, and my fingers were digging so deeply into my palms that I might almost have drawn blood. I think my face had probably gone white, as it always did when I was furious, and I glared up at Darien with all the loathing I was capable of. "You _jerk_," I snarled, startling him with my vehemence. "I can't _believe _you just said that." I took a step forward again, forgetting that just a second ago I'd been in his arms, knowing that I should just leave but too angry by far to let his comment go. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through, Darien?" I growled at him, taking another step forward. "Do you know what you've put your _sisters _through?" I was only a few inches from him, now, though I was so much shorter than him that my face was still far enough from his. "We've been looking _everywhere_ for you, Darien. We went all over town—even to the hospital. Does that even bother you? We thought you'd gotten_ hurt_."

He crossed his arms over his chest, the reluctance I'd seen in his eyes completely gone. He was glaring back at me, and he, too, had paled with his anger. "How is that _my _fault, Serena?" he snapped back at me. "_You _were the one who played that prank on me. How did you _think_ I would react to something like that? You crossed the line."

"_I _crossed the line? _You _were the one who poisoned those apples and started all of this!" My glare intensified. "Or did you think I was too stupid to realize who'd done it?"

"What, and the fact that I did that to you first makes you a saint? I know what you did to my car, Serena. Were you _trying _to ruin the pain job, or was that just a bonus?"

That did it. If I'd been mad before, it was nothing to the anger now coursing through me. "All this was about your _car_?! How does my soaping up a car compare to what you've done to _me? _You'veruined my _life_!" I shouted back, infuriated. "I never had any problems until I met you!"

Darien was beyond exasperated, beyond reason, even beyond shouting. "You're not exactly the best thing that's ever happened to me, either, Serena," he ground out, his voice low and dangerous. "Everything was so much easier before you came into my life!"

_Ouch._

Maybe I was still feeling the after effects of the emotional roller coaster I'd been on all day, but that one hurt. It was one thing to be angry, but even I would never have said that I wish I'd never met Darien, which was pretty much what he'd meant by that last comment. I may have thought it, often enough, but I'd never have said it. Even I wouldn't go that far, be that cruel. Still, there was only one thing to do at that point, only one way I could respond to something like that.

I slapped Darien. Hard. Then, without even taking the time to admire the nice red welt I'd left on his cheek, I immediately burst into tears and ran from the room.

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**Reader Responses:**

**Moonlightshadows: **I thank you for the compliments. I hope to keep hearing from you!

**SailorMoonJunkie13: **Wow. That's one of the most encouraging things I've ever heard, and I thank you for it. I can't believe you actually went to that much trouble just to get the rest of this. That alone is enough to motivate me to keep working on this story. Thank you so much for the uplifting comments!

**Sw-In-No-Cence: **For you, anything. Thanks for reading.

**Feather Qwill: **I try my best. This story is a little harder for me to write than most of the others, so it takes longer before I'm satisfied enough to post. I'll try better, just for you.

**Miiaevia: **Less nice? And here I thought Serena could be pretty darn mean when she sets her mind to it. I'm glad you don't see her that way, though, because I'm just like this, too. Maybe there's hope for the two of us yet, ne?

To answer your question, it _is _Serena's POV, and she _is_ telling it from years later. I took a lot of the events in the early chapters from my own life, you see, and since _I _was looking back over the years when I wrote about them, so is Serena. Of course, I stopped doing that by about the third chapter, but by then I couldn't change the perspective. I'm glad you noticed it. Nobody else seems to have, and I just adore perceptive people.

And to answer your last question…I don't do unhappy endings. This means, of course, that Serena and Darien will definitely get together by the end.

Loved hearing from you, by the way. I love it when people actually think about what I write. It makes all the difference.

**A. Lee: **Yes, I was jumping for joy, too, if only because I always feel guilty when I take so long to post something. I'm glad you liked this so much, though. This story is a lot harder for me to write than any of the others, but it's also a lot more fun. Dry humor, huh? That's actually a wonderful compliment, and I thank you for it. I hope to hear from you again, because your reviews are always very encouraging.

**Sassy-Chan: **Not forgotten, Sass, just put away where I wouldn't have to think about it. This story is hard to work on, though I don't know why. But, yes, your nagging paid off. It's hard to ignore you when you send so many requests every week. I love it, though, so don't stop.

Obligated to talk to you? Hardly. As you said, we've been friends forever. I look forward to your messages and your phone calls, and I'm honored that you think so highly of me.

Wow. Beautiful compliments, those. Whatever would I do without you? You've become one of my muses, my friend.

I, too, look forward to seeing how their relationship will evolve. It'll be an exciting ride, if nothing else. Once again, thanks. I look forward to whatever insights you come up with for this next chapter.

**Jane: **Thanks for the compliments! I loved hearing from you, and I hope I will be so honored in the future.

**Denial: **I'm glad you liked it so much. I've actually done that, I'm sorry to say, and I couldn't resist slipping it into the fic. And if it's fluff you want, this last chapter was chock full of it. Of course, their love/hate relationship makes the fluff a little odd sometimes, but there you go. Hope to hear from you again!

**rei: **I'll do my best to accommodate you! Thanks for reading.

**Sesshyz Koishii: **I'm trying my best! I'm glad you liked it so much, though. Well, I'm sorry that Darien's reaction wasn't exactly funny, but there'll hopefully be plenty of funny moments later on. And I'm sorry, but I won't be putting this in Darien's POV at all. You'll have to guess at his feelings, as Serena does, though I'm trying to make his emotions seen through the words and reactions of the other characters. I hope that doesn't put you off, and that you keep reading. I need all the encouragement I can get.

**Rachel: **Thanks for the encouragement! I'll try my best to accommodate you!

**Animerocksjapanrocks: **I know, and I'm sorry. I'm glad you keep reading, though. It's about the only reason I keep working on this thing!

**Keikochan3: **Thanks for reading, and thanks for the enthusiasm!

**SeraphEyes: **Wow. You're so sweet! I'm always so glad to hear from you, and that's why!

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